


An Amalgamation of Drabbles and Oneshots

by Jetainia



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, Doctor Who, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:51:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 65
Words: 63,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetainia/pseuds/Jetainia
Summary: A series of unrelated drabbles and oneshots inspired by prompts given in various competitions on fanfiction.net





	1. Hogwarts' Loving Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 'Hogwarts' with the theme of rejection.  
> Beta'd by Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Hogwarts was home to many people. To the students that stayed there and learnt their lessons within her walls. To the Professors who lived there most of the year and taught the young. To the creatures in her walls and outside of them; her presence stretching over the forest nearby and protecting it from those that would do it harm. Hogwarts was a safe haven to those that had nowhere else to go; she had been built as a place of safety for the magical community while they were being hunted down and prosecuted. Hogwarts never turned someone away, until one day she did.

She had liked him at first; he was polite and a bit shy. He was like one of her creators, Salazar Slytherin. Thin and gaunt, she nudged the House Elves to take care of him and fatten him up a bit before he left the safety of her walls. As he grew, he grew stronger and more powerful until he was the unspoken ruler of the Slytherin House. Hogwarts was fine with that, he was a Slytherin, why shouldn’t he control his ancestor’s house?

She saw that he talked with those that damaged other students and assumed he was warning them off. And indeed, he was. By promising them that it would more fun done outside of Hogwarts, on bigger targets. To Hogwarts, the boy was fair. Not kind, but fair. He would dole out punishments and look out for those who were weak. He would bring them out of their shells and make them strong. He was improving the lives of those in her care. She loved him for doing what she could not.

He had cried when Selena, the basilisk in her walls, had killed the female student. He had never spoken to Selena again after that, something which annoyed Hogwarts as Selena was lonely and did nothing but eat and sleep. He wasn’t sad for very long, but it was enough for Hogwarts to know that the boy was still a defender. He had argued strongly against closing the school and it seemed to take his mind off poor Myrtle.

He was a curious boy, researching all types of magic in the library. Hogwarts often indulged him. Rowena had seen that Hogwarts respected the pursuit of knowledge; and Hogwarts would never actively stand in the way of one whose goal was to learn. She noticed, of course, that the boy seemed obsessed with those called the Dark Arts, but Hogwarts didn’t mind. Her student defended the weak and made them strong. Besides, magic was magic and the students were there to learn magic.

Eventually, the boy left, and Hogwarts mourned the fact that she would most likely never see him again. A few years later, she did see him again. He was older and had lost some of the weight she and the House Elves had managed to put on him. His soul was split, and he carried a vessel that held part of it. Hogwarts happily kept it safe for him; she liked the boy, and she had missed him when he had been away.

Then came another boy, a boy who also carried a part of the other boy within him. This boy was in Gryffindor, although he could have been in Slytherin, and was just like Godric Gryffindor. He also reminded Hogwarts of Helga, the quiet determination to do good and help others, the tortured soul who only wished others wouldn’t have to go through what they had suffered.

With this boy, Hogwarts also nudged the House Elves and they looked after him the best they could. So she had both boys in her walls at the same time, she could sense the Slytherin in the Defense Professor and didn’t know why he hid. Until she did. She watched in horror as Tom and Harry faced off against one another. How had she been so wrong? How had her Tom turned out like this? He had once been a protector and teacher and now he was threatening to kill an eleven-year-old.

She watched as the body Tom had been using burned away when touching young Harry and the spectre that was all that remained of the sweet boy rose up out of the ashes. She would not allow Tom to harm Harry. Her considerable ambient magic formed a shield around the young boy, and Tom bounced off it, screaming his rage as he fled.

That was the pattern for a few years, Tom would appear and try to hurt her students, specifically Harry, and she would protect them as best she could. Finally, it all came to a head as Tom sent an army against her. She had been his home, if he had repented, she would still have been his home, no more. She burned every trace of him out of her walls and rejected his very presence. He did not exist to her anymore; he would no longer be allowed on Hogwarts grounds. He would not gain any aid from her magic.

The very air around the castle became poison to him, the ambient magic treating him as an infection and fighting against him. Tom fell to the ground as his own curse struck him. He lay there in Hogwarts’ Great Hall as his body failed him. He did not feel the warmth he had always felt before; all he felt was coldness. Hogwarts refused to talk to him and he felt alone.

He was not invited to stay as a ghost wandering the halls of his home. His home was not his home anymore. A tear made its way down his cheek as he left his body. He could see the smiling faces of those who had defeated him; could see the way Hogwarts welcomed them with warmth and ignored him. The one place that had always loved him now rejected him fully.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly before leaving; he was no longer welcome.

 


	2. Harry Potter and the Series of Unfortunate Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 'Unfortunately'  
> Beta'd by Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Harry had always felt a sort of kinship with the Baudelaire children in the book series A Series of Unfortunate Events. They were orphans; he was an orphan. It was enough for him for the series to be one of his favourite when he managed to hide away from the Dursleys long enough to read. Then he had learned about the Wizarding World and how his parents had been rich; again, another similarity between him and the characters.

He only wished they didn’t have the same habit of luring trouble to them. He never knew which of them had it worse, him or the Baudelaire children. Both of them had one person after them, and they both always somehow managed to escape the person. His person was Voldemort while their person was Count Olaf.

Their groups were made of three people. Violet, Klaus and Sunny were related by blood, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were as tight as they could be without being related. They were even almost the same. Hermione was Klaus, Ron was Sunny, and Harry was Violet, sort of. They had the same determination and both strove to keep those in their group happy and generally managed to make something up that would get him out of whatever situation he was in.

Unfortunately, there was no escaping the unfortunate events that plagued both Harry and the Baudelaire children, so they had to deal with it. They each grew stronger, better at thinking of ways out. And eventually, the unfortunate events seemed to be behind them. Voldemort and Count Olaf were dead; there was no more fleeing from or fighting against one man and his organisation.

One night after his three children had gone to bed and Ginny had finished washing up, Harry thought that perhaps he would write his own series. His own series of unfortunate events. Perhaps he’d ask Hermione for help as he wasn’t much of a writer after all. Yes, Harry had decided that he would ask Hermione to write up their adventures and publish them in the muggle world. One book for each year at Hogwarts.

With that thought still in his mind, Harry got ready for bed and went to sleep dreaming about his first year and the adventure with the Philosopher’s Stone.


	3. A Whole New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 'Fly with me.'  
> Beta'd by Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Flying was something he was proud of; something that was just him and not his family name. Of course, a few years ago he wouldn't have cared about what was him and what was his name. Then he met Lily Evans, and she refused to have anything to do with him until he grew up. Back then, he hadn't realised how young and stupid he had been. He still was young and stupid, but tempered it with a bit of 'Lupinism' when required. 'Lupinism' meaning to act like Remus Lupin, all quiet and smart, assessing each action and its consequences. He spent a long time thinking about this action, even talked with Lupin and Amelia, Lily's best friend, about it.

Everyone else had gone to bed. Amelia was keeping Lily awake, and Lupin was giving him the go ahead. James grinned at him, hopped on his broom, and flew out the window of the 7th year Gryffindor boys’ dorm.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Lily and Amelia were gossiping, well, Amelia was gossiping and refusing to let Lily go to sleep. Suddenly, there was a tap from one of the windows. The two girls jumped and looked to where the noise had come from. Hovering outside their dorm was James Potter with a cheeky yet shy smile on his face.

Lily leapt up and opened the window, exclaiming, “What are you doing, James?”

“James?” James enquired, “Don’t you mean Aladdin?” 

Lily stared at him for a few moments, long enough for James to doubt himself and babble, “It’s just that you keep telling me about how you love magic carpets and that scene between Aladdin and Jasmine; and I thought that maybe I could give you your own flying experience. I don’t have a magic carpet, and I don’t actually know who Aladdin and Jasmine are but-”

Lily cut him off, “Breathe, James. I love it.”

“Well then, Lily, fly with me?” Lily grinned and nodded, stepping out onto the broom with help from James and Amelia.

They flew around the castle with James pointing out all the things that you could only see from that height. They saw the lights shining from various windows, the Whomping Willow moving restlessly, and the centaurs running through the forbidden forest. It was all unbelievably beautiful, Lily felt the urge to sing, but instead simply marveled at the sights her boyfriend showed her.

They came to a stop at the astronomy tower, where James flew in via one of the huge open space and landed by a blanket, on which laid a picnic. Lily gasped at the sight of the floating candles spinning slowly in a circle above the blanket; two plates were set out, and there were multiple cushions to lay on.

James smiled at her and offered his hand, “Shall we?”

She smiled and nodded, letting him lead her to the picnic and arrange the cushions around her until she was comfortable. He settled himself on the other side and poured them both a cup of tea from the pot. Perhaps not the normal date drink, but it was perfect for them and perfect for a picnic. 

James opened the basket at his side and began pulling out a variety of foods.There was fruit salad, bread rolls, little quiches and, for dessert, Honeydukes’ chocolate fruits.

Lily watched as James piled her plate up with food and smiled softly at him when he handed it over to her. She would never have guessed that this sweet man in front of her existed within the prankster and bully he had been a few years ago.

Now she was glad she had given him a chance; he had shown that he was willing to become a better person. The Marauder’s pranks had calmed down a little since they had been dating, they were now mostly all harmless and in good fun as opposed to what they had been once before.

The group had even taken a break from tormenting Severus Snape, as Lily had once been his friend and didn’t want any harm to come to him even after he had called her the worst name possible in the Wizarding World for the muggleborn.

As the picnic progressed, James started fidgeting until he could barely sit still. As Lily drained the last dregs of her tea, he got up on one knee and produced a small box from his pocket. Lily’s hands came up to cover her mouth as she realised what was happening.

“Lily, I can’t thank you enough for giving me a chance to show you who I could be if I had a reason. You became my reason to make myself better. These past few years have been some of the best of my life, and I know you’re the reason for that. I want you to stay in my life and continue to make it better as you encourage me to be better. Lily, will you marry me?”

Lost for words, all Lily could do was nod. James’ face broke into a brilliant smile, and he shakily put the ring on her finger before swooping her up and around in a hug, kissing her softly as they came to a halt. They grinned dopily at each other for a while before Lily lightly smacked James in the chest, “You made Amelia keep me up, didn’t you!”

James shrugged, “Guilty as charged. We should probably get back now, exams are next week and we’ll need all the sleep we can get.”

“Well then, take me home,  _ Aladdin _ ,” Lily grinned.

Your wish is my command,  _ Jasmine _ .”

Together they climbed back on the broom and flew out of the astronomy tower; the House Elves popping in to clear up the picnic things and smiling, happy that the plan had worked, and Lily had agreed to marry James.


	4. Hugo vs Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One shot with the theme of 'Rejection' and the prompt 'Wizard's Chess'.  
> Beta'd by Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Hugo Granger-Weasley was obsessed with his father’s chess set. He would sit there and watch as his father played with his pieces and developed strategies to use in future games. Every night, he would lay in bed and think about the chess set, about one day having his own chess set that would obey him because they knew his strategies were solid. He would fantasize about sneaking downstairs and commanding his father’s chess set and them instantly obeying him.

He would dream about the battles they would go through together; perhaps they would forsake his father and prefer to work with Hugo instead. He felt kinda bad about that; his father had worked hard to gain the trust and loyalty of his pieces. But Hugo knew that he would be a good chess player. He had watched his father play every night; he knew all the moves one should make when in a tight spot.

As he laid in bed one night, Hugo decided that this would be the night; this would be the night that he finally went downstairs and took control. His mother and father were asleep, as was his sister. The time was now, his moment was here. He crept out of bed and listened at the door to his room for a moment to ensure that there was no one moving about for a glass of milk or the toilet or something.

The house was quiet and Hugo slowly opened his door, tiptoeing downstairs and carefully opening the cabinet that held his father’s chess set. They were not happy to be woken up, but Hugo was sure that would change once he showed them how good he was. Smiling to himself, he set up the board and looked expectantly at the pieces as they shuffled into place.

“Knight to C6,” he commanded.

The Right Knight looked at him for a moment, shook his head, and moved to C6. On the other side of the board, a pawn moved forward one space.

“Knight to F6,” the Left Knight also looked at him questioningly before moving to its assigned spot.

The black Bishop next to the King moved out, and Hugo ordered the Right Knight to A5. “Really? You want me to go there? I’ll be blocking the Rook!”

“I don’t care. I know what I’m doing now go to A5!”

“As you wish, but I’m not happy with it.”

The game progressed with the pieces getting more and more annoyed with the fact that Hugo was directing them and taking no notice of what they had to say. It was when he ordered one of the Bishop to open up a path for the Black team to the King that would end in a series of checks before checkmate was achieved that they truly rebelled.

The Bishop and the other White pieces stared at him in horror, it seemed as if he didn’t even know what he was about to do. The Bishop threw up his hands, “No. Just no. We gave you a chance because we know your father, but you are nothing like him. You don’t know how to command us; you don’t know how we work! You’re just sacrificing us one by one and headed to a nasty end. I refuse to play under you.”

He walked off the board and back into his place in the box. The other pieces followed him, and soon, they were almost all settled back into the box. Only the White Queen was still out and she was standing in the middle of the board looking up at Hugo. “We are not yours to command. We already have a good commander and we gave you this chance to lead us purely for him. We will not work with you again even if Ronald asks us to. This is the end of our affiliation, Hugo.”

With that, the White Queen joined her comrades in the box and went still. Hugo sat there, stunned. They didn’t like him; they thought he was a terrible chess player. How could he have been so wrong? He thought that they would rejoice to be playing with him yet instead, they had rejected him completely. They would never accept him as their leader; not even if his father asked them to follow him at some point.

No, he thought fiercely, this was not the end. He would learn more about chess, he would study hard and become the best chess player the world had ever seen. Better than even his father, no one would ever again say that he was terrible at leading his pieces. When Hermione and Ron came downstairs the next morning they were greeted by the sight of their son slumped over all the strategy books Ron had collected over the years. Nothing would stop Hugo, expect perhaps, the need to sleep.


	5. Pandora's Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Luna Lovegood  
> Beta'd by Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Luna was skipping; she liked skipping. It brought out the Rangles, the opposite of Nargles. According to her parents, not many people could see what they saw, some didn’t even want to see. It made her very happy that she had the family she had and that they had taught her all about the unseen world. The creatures from both the seen and unseen worlds were her only friends, but she was happy.

Once, her mother had taken her to a nearby gathering of families to try and get Luna friends her own age. Unfortunately, even though they were young, the other kids made fun of her for so firmly believing in the creatures she talked about. Everyone knew that what they saw in the enchanted play area stayed in the play area. Plus, they had never heard of most of the creatures she talked about. What in Merlin’s name was a Nargle?

Luna’s mother had then held an impromptu lecture on the unseen world before taking Luna home. Luna loved her mother; she was the best friend a little girl could ask for.

An explosion stopped her skipping.

Smoke arose from her house. Not a lovely little wisp that meant the fire was burning from the furnace, but a giant cloud that left stains on everything it touched. Luna ran towards it, only to find herself already there. Ignoring that she had performed magic for the moment, Luna collapsed at the side of her mother who was lying on the floor of her study, covered in ashes from the explosion.   Pandora Lovegood smiled slightly at her daughter; a hand coming up to rest on one side of Luna’s face.

“My darling, what are you doing here?” Pandora whispered with what little breath she had left.

“I was playing with the Rangles but then the house exploded and I think I apparated.”

Her mother laughed lightly at that, “That’s my little moon; you keep playing with the unseen and meeting new unseen. Maybe you’ll see the Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Never lose your love of life and magic, Luna. It may be all you have at some point. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mum. You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” 

“I will always be with you, no matter what.”

At that moment, Xenophilius Lovegood rushed into the room and stopped as the scene before him sunk in. His wife was laying on the floor of what had been her study, on the verge of death. His daughter was kneeling by Pandora’s side. As he stood there, Pandora reached out her other hand towards him and he quickly went to take it in his own.

“Look after her, Xeno,” Pandora pleaded.

“I will,” he swore.

“And look after yourself,” Xenophilius swallowed a few times, choking back tears, before nodding his consent.

Content that her family would be okay, Pandora let go and went to explore the next world. She would find all the creatures and tell them about her lovely husband and adorable daughter. And when her family eventually joined her, she would take them to see everything she had discovered while she waited. She would watch over Luna as much as she could and ask the unseen creatures to look after her little moon when she couldn’t.

A week after the funeral, Luna walked up to her father and said, “I’m going to find every unseen creature and tell it about Mum. That way, they’ll know who she is and will know where to go when they get lost after they leave here.”

“That is very nice idea, Luna,” her father said, perking up a little. “Perhaps I’ll write a journal of all the creatures you find and publish it. Then the shy creatures will know we’re friendly, and other people might even understand the unseen a bit more.”

“Let’s get started, Papa.” And so, The Quibbler was born, a journal that documented the unseen, creatures and facts, for those interested and for the unseen themselves.


	6. Sontaran's Create the Best Days Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Who crossover with the prompts: "How did I end up here?" and Best day ever  
> Beta'd by Magi_Silverwolf

Harry Potter was bored. It had been several years since the end of the war with Voldemort yet there were still people clambering to meet him, marry him, or kill him. He had thought he wanted to be an Auror after he had finished school but the memories had overwhelmed him. He couldn’t keep going into training every day and remembering all the people that had died at the Battle of Hogwarts.

So he had left the training program and then left Britain. Four years after the war, three years after he had left Britain, Harry had explored all of the world that he had wanted to. He had been across the United States, seen the sights of France, skied in Austria (falling down many times), trekked across Northern America, explored the Andes, walked around Uluru in Australia, and much more.

Now he was back in Britain and bored. All of his friends had dived deep into normal life: work and families everywhere. He was the drifter. The person who didn’t really know what he wanted to do. He had enough money that he didn’t need to do anything. Still, he was bored. He had seen what he had wanted to see and his friends had their own  _ normal _ lives.

As he sat on the swings in the park outside of 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry heard a strange wheezing sound. It echoed from a nearby alleyway and Harry was instantly curious. He hadn’t seen anyone enter the alleyway from his side and it wasn’t the typical sound one would hear in London. Thinking it might be something magical that would either be totally awesome or terrifying, he made his way into the alley.

What he found was a big blue box that proclaimed itself to be a Police Box. He was fairly certain that a big blue Police box had not been in the alleyway before. Surely he would have seen it. It was not, after all, very inconspicuous. Therefore, it had to be something magical. Magical meant he would have to call the Aurors to take care of it before the muggles got curious or deal with it himself. A voice that sounded like Hermione told him to go get the Aurors. He never listened to Hermione; why would he start now?

Wand out, he proceeded to the box and, not knowing what else to do, knocked politely on the right-hand side door. It opened to reveal a middle-aged man in a tweed trousers, a vest with question marks with a jacket over the top and an umbrella in his hand. 

“Hello,” the man said as he examined his surroundings.

“Er, hi.”

“If I’m not mistaken, this is London, 2002.”

“Yup. You got a time-turner in that box or something?”

The man spun around to look at Harry, pointing his umbrella at the wizard’s chest, “A time-turner? The TARDIS does not  _ turn _ time; it travels through. Time is something that  _ turns _ ; it rolls around and breaks off and becomes a mass of squiggly lines that are almost impossible to interpret.”

“Right, you’ve lost me.”

“Never mind about that. Let’s go have some tea, eh?”

Harry grinned, “Now you’re talking. Follow me.”

As he guided the strange man from the blue box to his home, Harry could hear Hermione yelling at him. Normal people do not find a stranger, who was possibly muggle, possibly magical, possibly something else, get totally confused by that person and then agree to have a cup of tea with them! Harry had plenty of practice ignoring Hermione; besides, he was bored and this man seemed to exude adventure.

Instead of taking the man home--he should really get his name--Harry guided them towards a small café that he frequented. It was out of the way and for the locals, always quiet and reasonably cheap. Sitting down at a table, they both ordered English Breakfast tea and waited in silence for it to be brought out. After they had both made the tea to their liking and taken a sip, Harry opened his mouth to ask the man’s name.

Except the man wasn’t there. Nor was the café or his freshly brewed tea. He was in what appeared to be a storage room, filled with metal crates, and there was a slight hum in the air. “Now how did I end up here?” he mused to himself as he wandered through the crates. One of them was open slightly and, curious, he peeked inside. There were a whole lot of metallic sticks that Harry assumed were technology and not metal wands. Judging from the way they were packed, he also assumed they were weapons of some sort.

Booted feet were marching his way and he quickly ducked behind a tower of crates. If these people had kidnapped him, he didn’t want to meet them anytime soon without actually knowing what was going on. The door hissed open and in stepped a short figure covered entirely by armour. The figure held out one of the rods Harry had seen in the crate and was systematically walking through the towers of crates. Assuming this was some sort of enemy operation and due to fact the figure was paying zero attention to the actual crates, it was presumably looking for Harry or his companion. Harry’s companion that was nowhere to be seen and he knew absolutely nothing about.

The figure was coming closer to him now and he quietly made his way to the other side of his tower. After checking that the figure was facing away, Harry dashed out into the corridor. He almost stopped when he exited the storage room. He was most definitely not in Kansas anymore. The corridor was metal panelled and light was emanating from circles on the wall. There was also a window--a window that showed a planet; Earth, to be exact. He was orbiting around  _ Earth _ .

Shaking his head to clear it, Harry put aside the fact that he was apparently  _ on a spaceship _ and continued running to the left. He hoped he could find something that would explain his situation. Maybe the box man could explain. He needed to find the other man.

Suddenly, he was yanked into a side corridor by an umbrella. There was the man that he still didn’t know the name of. Hopefully he could explain, but first things first, “What in the entirety of Merlin’s scraggly beard is your name?”

“I’m the Doctor.”

Harry ignored that it wasn’t technically a name, “Okay, great. I’m Harry. Why are we on a spaceship?”

“Ah, that would be my fault. The Sontarans have been following me for a while now and I thought that I’d lost them. Turns out I hadn’t and they decided they wanted to have a little chat about war with me. They’re all about war, this species, always fighting and cloning so they can keep fighting and now they want to try me for crimes against them during their war in which I stopped them from destroying an entire planet!”

“Right, so what’s the plan?” Harry was determinedly ignoring all the space stuff and instead focusing on what he could actually understand and believe. Which, considering that he was a wizard who went to a school of wizards and fought against a whole bunch of bad wizards, was a space war really that hard to believe?

“We get out of here and then we blow them up.”

“Good plan. How do we get out of here? We’re on a spaceship.”

The Doctor smiled at him, “The same way we got on this spaceship, the transporter.”

Harry followed the Doctor through the corridors, trying to take everything in. They made their way to what was apparently the engine room. There the Doctor fiddled with all sorts of things, pulling wires out of machines and occasionally passing something over to Harry for him to hold. Harry had no idea what the Doctor was doing except somehow causing the ship to blow up at a predetermined time.

The Doctor stood up from the machine he had been working at and clapped his hands together, “There, that should do it.”

“What about all this?” Harry held up his armful of bits and pieces.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. There’s always bits left over when you modify something.” The Doctor wiped his brow with a handkerchief he had pulled from one of his pockets and then said, “Let’s go. We don’t want to be here in a few minutes.”

They ran again, this time to the transporter room where the Doctor ushered them into the pod-like area and hit a button. The spaceship disappeared and they were on Earth again, in the alleyway and next to the blue Police Box.

“So, what is that thing? You said it travelled through time.”

“Yes, and space. This is the TARDIS, my spaceship. Did you want to have a look?”

“Sure.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what he had been expecting, something like the ship they had just blown up but tiny. Instead what he found was a massive room that held a console thing in the middle, arches coming down around the console with circles cut into the metal of them. Surrounding that and further in were shelves filled with books and all sort of knick-knacks.

Lights shone down from the ceiling high above and there were candelabras glowing happily dotted around the space. It was like a very old-fashioned futuristic spaceship. It was bigger on the inside but on a massive scale. He knew wizards could create objects that were larger on the inside--the tent from the Quidditch World Cup and Hermione’s beaded bag were proof of that--but this wasn’t magic. This had to be science, an incredibly advanced form of science.

“You like it?” the Doctor inquired from his position next to the console.

“I love it.”

“Do you want to see it in action?”

Harry stared at him, “You mean, you want to take me away in your wooden box spaceship?”

“Why not? I can drop you back five seconds ago. Remember, this is a timeship as well as a spaceship.”

He thought about it, thought about what he’d be leaving behind to go exploring the stars. It turned out there wasn’t really much to leave: his friends had their own lives and if he could be back five seconds ago, they wouldn’t miss him. He had seen Earth; he hadn’t seen the universe, and he wanted to see it. This had been, by far, the best day ever, and he wanted more days like it. Grinning like a lunatic, he replied with one word.

“Yes.”


	7. The Winner Takes it All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "It's always a competition with you, isn't it?"  
> Beta'd by Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Fred and George Weasley were identical twins, pranksters, and very competitive with each other since they were young. Ever since they grew old enough to understand that not everyone could tell them apart, they tried to find something that one of them was better at than the other. That way everyone would know that twin who was good at so-and-so was Fred and the twin that was good at whatchamacallit was George. Thus started their legendary, to them, battle of figuring out who was best at what.

Today it was Quidditch, specifically playing as a Beater. They had managed to gather their family together for a tournament of sorts. Bill, Charlie and Percy would fly around on their brooms while Fred and George simultaneously tried to hit them and keep the bludgers away from them. Ron and Ginny were on the ground with their parents; they hadn’t been allowed to join in as they were too young for such a dangerous sport as Quidditch, especially when it was a twin version that only involved bludgers.

The five boys mounted their brooms and waited for Ron to signal the start of the match; they couldn’t just leave their little brother completely out of it after all. As they waited, the twins exchanged quips with each other.

“I’m going to leave you in the dust,” one of them said.

“Oh yeah? Well I’m going to pick up that dust and make a nice little dust trail with it so you can follow me.”

Charlie sighed, “It’s always a competition with you, isn’t it?”

The twins looked at each other, “Yes,” they said simultaneously before kicking off as Ron yelled the beginning of the game.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

When they discovered the Marauder’s Map in Filch’s office, they immediately set to memorising where each secret passageway was and where it went. Each day, they would quiz each other on what they knew, each day it was the same. Both of them would know most, but not all until the day did they both knew all of them.

The other students who saw them whispering fiercely to each other kept their opinions on the twin’s rivalry to themselves. It was common knowledge at Hogwarts that while the Weasley twins couldn’t be closer, they were also fiercely competitive with each other. It was always a competition with them.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The Yule Ball became a competition of its own; since the twins hadn’t been able to get into the Triwizard Tournament, they created their own tournament. It was simple, the girls would decide how great their night was and whichever girl rated it higher, the twin that had taken her would win. Fred took Angelina while George took Hailey, and when asked about the time they had, they both replied that they had had a really fun night.

After they had received this bit of news, the two twins slumped down on the couches in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. “We’re never going to find something, are we?”

“We will. Hey, how many canary creams do you think you can eat before turning into a canary?”

The twins set to seeing if they could beat the other in amount of canary creams eaten and were soon covered in feathers. Alicia Spinnet walked past them and shook her head in wonder and slight disapproval, “It’s always a competition with you, isn’t it?”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

After the Battle of Hogwarts George Weasley was trying to work his way through his grief of losing his twin. He kept Weasley Wizard Wheezes open and continued to make products. He didn’t invent any new ones for a while; but a year after the Battle, he finally got back into inventing and experimenting.

One night, he was sitting on his couch reminiscing about all their competitions. Every single one of them had seemed to end in a tie, or so close that it wasn’t really worth mentioning as a way to tell them apart. Besides, you couldn’t really ask a twin to eat as many canary creams as he can before turning every time you saw him just to be sure about who you were talking to.

“You know, Fred,” he said to the air as he tended to do since Fred’s death, “we never found something. All those things we did and not one of them made a difference to other people. Of course, now everyone knows which twin is which. Fred’s dead and George is alive. Even if you’d survived they’d know who was who, given that I’m holey now.”

“Does that mean I win? I didn’t want to win this way, I wish it was back to the way it was before. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley because they were so scared they’d get it wrong, even though we told them we didn’t mind. We were used to it back then, weren’t we? Being called each other’s name and our stupid competitions.

“Remember what everyone said when they saw us? ‘It’s always a competition with you, isn’t it?’” he huffed out a laugh. “Well I guess the winner takes it all, no one calls me Fred anymore, they know who I am. I win.”

With that, he drained the glass of Firewhiskey he had been holding and stumbled off to bed where he face planted and fell asleep immediately. 

Fred Weasley didn’t move from his place on the couch. The older twin hadn’t been able to leave George behind so he had stayed, as a ghost, to watch over his twin.

He supposed George was right, the competition was over, everyone knew which one was which now. But there were always other things they could compete over, other reasons to see who was better at a particular thing. One competition may be over, but Fred knew that it wouldn’t be the last. As soon as George joined him they’d be back at it; maybe they’d see who could spook someone out the most. Or who could create the biggest explosion that no one would notice. The possibilities were endless.


	8. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Starlight  
> Theme: Family  
> Beta'd by Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

_You are the sentinels_

_Silent and sure_

_Keeping watch in the night_

_~Stars, Les Miserables_

The Black family had the tradition of naming their children after the stars and their constellations. Sons of Orion and Walburga Black were called Regulus and Sirius, both named after the stars in the sky. The two boys were good friends in their youth; they were all they had due to their father being Lord Black and their mother focused on drilling etiquette into their heads.

When Sirius was eleven and Regulus was ten, the two of them snuck out to their favourite place, the roof. The roof was where they went to get peace from their family and the pressure that family created. They would stare up at the stars and make up stories about what their stars were doing. Every so often they would imagine that they _were_ the stars instead of simply being named after them.

Tonight they were saying goodbye; Sirius was going to Hogwarts the next day and the brothers would be apart from each other for longer than they had ever been. Even when Regulus joined Sirius at Hogwarts they would probably be in separate houses, Sirius was determined to be in Gryffindor, but Regulus was happy to follow the family and go into Slytherin.

“You reckon the stars are like guardian angels?” Regulus asked Sirius under the starlight.

“You mean, are they watching over us because we share names with them?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius shrugged, “I dunno, maybe. Muggles think magic isn’t real, who’s to say that stars aren’t watching us and we just don’t know it yet.”

“I’m going to talk to your star when you’re gone and maybe you’ll hear me.”

“I’ll talk to yours as well,” the two brothers grinned at each other, their shoulders touching as they lay back and stared upwards at the night sky.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Sirius Orion Black laid back on his bed in the Gryffindor dorm room that he shared with three other boys who had been sorted in the same house. It had only been one day since he had seen his brother, but he was already missing Regulus. He didn’t know how he was going to manage the three months until the Yule break.

The dorm room was filled with unfamiliar noises, the shuffling and sniffling originating from three other people sounding strange after having his own room all his life. Sighing, Sirius turned on his side and looked out the window by his bedside. The stars were shining bright, surrounding the moon in all its glory. He smiled up at it weakly; was his brother looking at the stars right now?

Locating the Regulus star and sending it a small wave, he whispered, “Hey, Reg.”

He was silent for a while, simply laying there with a small smile on his face imagining what his little brother was doing at that moment.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Regulus Arcturus Black was on the roof of the Black house and looking up at the stars. The Sirius star was shining brightly down upon him. Downstairs his mother and father were arguing over Sirius’ sorting, though they might have known that Sirius wanted to go into Gryffindor they didn’t expect him to actually get into that house.

He grinned up at the star and waved, “Hey, Siri. You’ve certainly caused a ruckus here today; they are not happy with you. Congrats on getting into Gryffindor, I know that’s where you really wanted to be. I don’t quite understand why; it’s a bit brash, but I won’t hold it against you.

“How’s Hogwarts so far? I mean, I know you’ve only been here for a night but how was it? Is the castle as awesome as people say? Was the food good? Have you made any friends yet? Of course you have, what am I saying? You’ll be friends with everyone at Hogwarts, well, except for the Slytherins.” Regulus laughed and then threatened, “But you better still be friends with me or else!”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Both Black brothers smiled up at the night sky and were comforted by the thought of their brother doing the same thing. Though one was in Scotland and the other in England, it was the same starlight that shone down on the both of them.


	9. Ohana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Almost giving up  
> Theme: Family  
> Beta'd by Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

When he was a young child, Harry James Potter had no one to turn to. He didn’t have a shoulder to cry on or an adult to ask for advice. All he had were his Aunt and Uncle who often neglected their duty of care and his bullying cousin. So, he had learned how to take care of himself and when he turned eleven and was introduced to a whole new world, he figured he could deal. That was, until he found out that an evil wizard killed his parents and was still trying to kill him.

The first year he could kind of deal with it, mainly because he didn’t fully understand what was going on; he was only eleven at the time. His first year at Hogwarts had actually been kind of fun, adventuring with two friends to find out the secret hidden within the school. It was like the many adventure books he had read after Dudley had thrown them around and tore out their pages in frustration at the book’s inability to make cool noises.

Together, he, Ron, and Hermione had solved the mystery and stopped Voldemort from winning. It had been a fun time; there hadn’t really been any attempts on his life apart from the broom thing and a professor had saved him.

It was second year where things started going downhill, almost every student attending Hogwarts that year suspected him of releasing a giant basilisk and going after the muggleborns. At least until one of his best friends, Hermione, had been attacked. He had learned a lot about the Wizarding World and fame that year. He had also learned that it wasn’t common to be able to talk to snakes, reinforcing his aunt’s constant utterances of him being a freak.

Third year, he learned that an escaped convict was his godfather and was thought to be the betrayer of his parents. Sirius Black was an innocent man, convicted without a trial, and thought the worst of for twelve years while Peter Pettigrew lived as a rat in the happy home of the Weasley family.

Fourth year was when things turned insane. Ron turned against him completely until the first task was over. The fact that Harry was even participating in the Triwizard Tournament aggravated the Boy Who Lived to no end. He almost wished that he had never discovered the Wizarding World, the whole thing just made him want to throw in the towel and tell the Wizarding World that he was a  _ fourteen-year-old boy _ who was still learning magic and had no desire for his life story to be splashed across the front page of a newspaper.

However, none of those years held a candle to his fifth. His fifth year at Hogwarts was a blur of torture from Voldemort and Umbridge while still suffering from nightmares about the graveyard where Voldemort resurrected. Dumbledore was kicked out, and Hagrid expected Harry and his friends to look after his full-blooded giant brother.

Voldemort sent him visions almost every night, leaving him with a migraine afterwards. Umbridge kept giving him detention where she made him write with the quill that used his own blood as ink while Professor McGonagall told him to keep his head down and not attract attention. Except everyone was looking at him because he was the Boy Who Lived and famous because of something his  _ mother _ did.

The Invisibility cloak got a lot of use during that year, he would sneak up to the Astronomy tower and watch the stars when he knew there wasn’t a class. The murtlap essence provided by Hermione soothed his hand where the quill had etched the words,  _ I must not tell lies _ , as he sat there quietly. Several times, he almost gave in to the idea of simply stepping off the edge, but then he’d think of Hermione and Ron and the rest of the Weasley’s; they kept him from abandoning all hope and giving up.

His family that consisted of his friends helped him through his grief when Sirius died. They stood by him as he tried to work out Draco Malfoy’s plan and learned about Voldemort’s childhood. Ron didn’t shun him when Harry started dating Ginny and was, instead, happy for them. They were there when Dumbledore died and accompanied Harry on his quest to find Voldemort’s Horcruxes.

There was no way he would have been able to get through the next year without Ron and Hermione. Even with them there, when he wore the Horcrux he so often almost gave up. He wanted to give up, to just forget about the prophecy and let someone else deal with Voldemort, but he couldn’t let himself do that and neither could Ron and Hermione.

It devastated Harry when Dobby died saving them from Malfoy Manor; another family member dead in the horrid war Voldemort was forcing upon them. Harry couldn’t allow anyone else to die for him, he would get the Horcrux they thought was in Bellatrix Lestrange’s Gringotts vault, they would find the remaining Horcruxes, and then Harry  _ would _ end the war, no matter what.

He gave up; he let Voldemort kill him and hoped that Neville would finish what he couldn’t. Except it wasn’t the end, instead he was given a choice; to stay and go to the afterlife or to return to Hogwarts and the war. The temptation to join his parents was almost strong enough to make him stay, almost. Until he thought about the family he had back home, in the world of the living. He couldn’t just leave them behind like this; he had to go back.

Harry Potter never gave up, he was the Boy Who Lived.


	10. Dementor of Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dementors  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Ivan Kusimein was a squib who had taken it upon himself to learn all he could about souls, the healing and the destroying. He was known as Ivan the Soul Healer outside of his village; wizards and witches came from miles to see him about problems they felt they had with their souls. Several of them claiming that they were the reincarnation of a terrible person who was whispering to them in the night. Each person that saw Ivan came out feeling lighter than they had before. He was the Soul Healer, and he healed souls.

Until it was discovered that Ivan the Soul Healer wasn’t healing the souls, so much as taking a part of them away from the original mass. When inquired about his reasoning for stealing parts of souls, Ivan replied that he was experimenting. The villagers left it at that, though no one ever  willingly went to see the madman again. Instead, Ivan worked with those who no longer cared about what happened to them; he worked with those that were of no use to the society.

As the years went by and Ivan descended further into his experiments, he tried to discover the secret to immortality; the title of Soul Healer vanished and was replaced with Demented. Ivan didn’t care what titles were laid upon him, all he was interested in was his experiments.

“If I combine the souls enough…the power should…but how…” it was not uncommon for Ivan to mutter to himself; the villagers had taken to ignoring him.

Then came the time where no one saw or heard Ivan the Demented for a full harvesting season. The only sign that he was still alive and kicking were the puffs of smoke erupting from his workshop on a hill far away from the village centre. The rumours spread through the village like wildfire; perhaps Ivan was close to achieving immortality. Perhaps he was simply enjoying making different colours of smoke. Perhaps he was having a party with his imaginary companions.

The truth of it was that Ivan was close to achieving the ultimate power; the ability to suck out a soul of another person and absorb it into himself. He believed that with the energy each soul would provide, he could live forever. It was a sunny day when he finally figured it out and managed to put it into action. The villagers were out in the fields when a great explosion of darkness erupted from Ivan’s workshop.

The darkness swept across the village, engulfing everything in cold and replacing the day with night. Screams could be heard echoing around the countryside. Within the darkness were small spots of light emerging from the hapless villagers falling to the ground. The lights flew to the epicentre and dove into the body of Ivan the Demented.

Ivan was laying on the floor of his workshop, unconscious from the blast as each soul became a part of him. Eventually, there were no more souls and the darkness retreated into what was left of Ivan. The squib no longer looked human; he had become a skeletal figure that seemed to be in the middle of rotting away. The only facial feature he retained was a great maw, forever open and forever hungry. A cloak of darkness surrounded him along with a bone-deep chill and an aura of despair felt by any who found themselves in close proximity to Ivan.

The story of the village’s fate spread, and those who had known about Ivan blamed him for the event. Every villager had been turned into a shell, and all were accounted for except Ivan. The Healers didn’t know how to help the villagers affected and assumed that their souls had been demented by the man previously known as the Soul Healer. Black shadows floated through the village and it was said that the sun never again touched any part of the once-happy village. And so, Ivan the Demented became Ivan the Dementor of Souls. He faded into legend after a while and was known only as the Dementor. An immortal creature that sucked out the souls of humans, a creature to be feared.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Blaise Zabini never let on how much he was affected by the Dementors circling Hogwarts’ grounds. He had been alone in the bathroom when they had inspected the train and had since taken great care to not be in range of the Azkaban guards. His mother—the great Lady Zabini, rumoured to be a Black Widow—had sent him various charms and amulets to help ward off the memories she knew the Dementors brought out of her son.

It had been his first father—his original and biological one—that had sought out the First Dementor and taken Blaise along for the ride. The First Dementor had been a myth for so long that Celeste Zabini had merely indulged in her husband’s flights of fancy. She did not believe that her husband would find the First Dementor, despite him being so sure and waving around an aged piece of parchment that documented what was suspected to be the origin of the Dementors.

So Blaise and his father, Henry, had set off to see the remains of the little village once known as Animus, the birthplace of the Dementors. Unfortunately for the Zabini family, Henry found a Dementor. In fact, he found quite a few Dementors; and they were all very interested in him and his three-year-old son.

As soon as Henry had entered the ruined shack on top of the hill on the outskirts of the village, Dementors started swooping down from every direction. They headed directly towards the two wizards, bringing with them the cold and despair that they were known for. For some reason ,unknown to Henry Zabini, the Dementors stopped out of reach and formed a circle around him and his son.

The reason soon became clear as another Dementor came swooping in. This Dementor seemed older than the others and was clearly revered by them. It was a logical conclusion that this was the First Dementor. According to the scroll that Henry had uncovered; this Dementor had once been human, a squib known as Ivan the Demented who had become a Dementor during his research into immortality and souls.

The First Dementor approached the couple as Henry pushed Blaise behind him. One rotting hand came up to clasp Henry’s face and the wizard began to shiver. Knowing what was about to happen, Henry Zabini pushed a small button into the hand of his son. As his soul was dragged out of his body, Henry yelled, “Celeste!” and Blaise was whisked away by the portkey with the image of his father’s soul being sucked out forever burned into his memory.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Blaise shivered as the air grew colder; he had been sitting in a little unknown niche on the second floor of Hogwarts. It was hidden by a floor-length tapestry and had become his refuge whenever the Slytherin common room grew too intense for him to bear. He had spent a lot of time there this year, striving to push back the memories of his father and the First Dementor.

Pulling his cloak tighter to his body, Blaise pushed himself up, and after checking that the coast was clear, he left the niche. He had promised Theodore Nott a game of chess that afternoon, hopefully it would distract him enough that he could sleep through at least one night without waking up in a cold sweat.

As he made his way down into the dungeons, Blaise glanced out one of the windows. Black shapes were floating along the boundaries, keeping watch for Sirius Black in case the mass murderer decided to try get into the castle. While almost all of them were patrolling back and forth, one Dementor was angled towards where Blaise was and did not move. It was as if it was staring straight at him. Blaise shivered again and hurried down the stairs to the common room where Theo would be waiting, hopefully with a butterbeer. Blaise Zabini would be very happy when the Dementors left Hogwarts.


	11. Azkaban, a Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Home sweet home  
> Theme: Escape  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Sirius Black laughed when the Aurors dragged him away from the street where he had killed the traitor, Peter Pettigrew. He laughed at the absurdity of it all; that they had chosen Peter because no one would suspect him. They themselves hadn’t suspected that Peter would be so weak as to follow You Know Who. It was a hysterical laugh that didn’t stop, even when the boat was approaching Azkaban prison and the chill of the Dementors kissed his skin. It was no longer a full-blown laugh, but every now and again he would let out a strangled chuckle of dark amusement.

It seemed as if he hadn’t been able to escape the madness that the Black family was so famous for. The guards on either side of him exchanged glances; they were afraid of this mad man who had managed to kill twelve muggles and Peter Pettigrew with one spell and was now laughing as he entered one of the most feared places in Wizarding Britain. It seemed that the Black Madness was real.

As he was thrown into the cell that would be his for however long, Sirius smiled at the guards and gave them a gracious bow. Then he turned to face his cell, threw out his arms, and drew in a deep breath. The smell of the ocean filled his nostrils along with the general smell of prison filth and unwashed bodies. Home sweet home.

He let out another chuckle at that, what kind of sane person called Azkaban a sweet home? Then again, he wasn’t entirely sane now. He had heard from his father that when a Black goes through a traumatic event, their hold on sanity becomes very tenuous and can so easily be broken. Sirius figured that losing his best friends due to another friend’s treachery was traumatic enough; and no matter how much he had tried to escape the family, he was still a Black by name and blood.

A Dementor stopped outside his cell in solitary confinement and he stopped laughing. He didn’t like the memories that began surfacing in his mind. He didn’t like the cold that was seeping into his bones. He wanted to escape it; he wanted to be warm, so he did the only thing he could think of and transformed into the big black dog that was his Animagus form.

As soon as he became Padfoot the Dementor’s effects vanished. The Dementor seemed to be vaguely confused by the sudden change of human to animal but didn’t much care; there were plenty of other sources of food. It moved onwards, and Sirius watched it go with relief. He barked a laugh; the Dementors couldn’t touch him when he was Padfoot! He had a defence system against the only true guards of the prison he was stuck in. Perhaps Azkaban wouldn’t be so bad after all.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Twelve years later Sirius caught a glimpse of the newspaper Cornelius Fudge was holding and repressed a snarl. As politely as he could he asked Fudge if he could read the paper and—when the Minister had given it to him—confirmed that, yes, Pettigrew had survived and was living as Wormtail with the Weasley family. Instantly his mind began whirling, he had to escape Azkaban and track down the traitor.

Pettigrew was on the youngest boy’s shoulder; the rat would probably accompany the boy to Hogwarts. Harry would be at Hogwarts as well, and Sirius couldn’t let anything happen to his godson; he would not allow Pettigrew to finish the job of wiping out the Potter family. It was time to leave the prison.

That night, he transformed into Padfoot and managed to squeeze through the bars of his cell. They should really feed prisoners more, otherwise anyone could get skinny enough to fit through the gap between two bars. Letting out a small, amused bark, Sirius loped down the corridor and slipped through the shadows until he reached the entrance of Azkaban. Not stopping to think about the temperature, he dived into the sea and started swimming towards the mainland. He glanced back at the imposing tower once and gave it a little wave goodbye. Home sweet home, indeed.


	12. Percy and his Protégé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:   
> -If anybody knew what he/she was currently doing, they'd try to stop her/him.  
> -Two is better than one  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

_ Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better, _

_ Because I knew you _

_ I have been changed for good _

_ ~For Good, Wicked _

The young girl with bushy hair and rather large front teeth took a deep breath. She was determined to do this but she knew that it wasn’t allowed. If anybody knew what she was currently doing, they’d try to stop her. She didn’t care though, and she was determined to follow through with her plan.

Hermione Granger was a very intelligent young girl and was the favourite of many of her teachers at school. However, this one act might make them change their minds about her. Hermione Granger was a very clever girl, and she knew that she was special. She knew that not everyone could make objects fly towards them unless they were Magicians that knew all the tricks of the trade.

Staring determinedly at the door like she had seen Matilda do in the book, Hermione focused her will and told the door to unlock. The hum of children playing outside dimmed into the background even further and her entire world narrowed down to that one, singular door. So much so that she didn’t hear the person sidling up to her side and watching amusedly. 

“You trying to set it on fire or what?”

Hermione jumped and a hand went to her heart. Percy, for she knew that was his name even if they didn’t share any classes, grinned at her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Nothing much, just wondering what the most rule-abiding girl I have ever seen was doing glaring a hole into the door that leads into the records room. You wouldn’t happen to know the reason she would be doing that, would you?

Hermione panicked, “N-no! I mean, there isn’t a reason, not at all! Nothing to see here, I’m not doing anything!”

“Uh-huh, right.” Percy raised an eyebrow in disbelief and then grinned at her, “You want some help? Two is better than one, after all.”

“No, it’s fine, I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

The eyebrow went up again, “You do know who you’re talking to, right? Percy Dohare? Notorious troublemaker in our illustrious school? Are you trying to steal my crown, and that’s why you don’t want me to help you?”

“No…” Hermione giggled at the pout she was being given by the older boy.

“Then let me help! It is my duty as the reigning troublemaker to participate in all kinds of trouble I come across and to aid my fellow troublemakers as they make their debut into the world of troublemaking!”

“Fine, you can guard the door, I don’t need anyone else offering to help me.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Percy gave her a salute and marched to the entryway, content to act as a lookout while his new protégé acted out her bit of mischief.

Hermione rolled her eyes and giggled at his antics before turning her attention back to the records room door. She wasn’t trying to set it on fire, she was trying to open it. Her stare increased in ferocity until, finally, somehow, the door gave a click and swung open. The young girl of eight-years-old gaped at it for a few seconds before quietly squealing and doing a quick happy dance.

Percy glanced back at her when he heard the quiet squealing and jumping around, “Oi! Hermione! If you want to be a successful sneaker-arounder, you don’t celebrate until  _ after _ you’ve left the scene of the crime!”

“Sorry!” Hermione whispered back before proceeding into the records room in a more subdued fashion.

In front of her were rows of filing cabinets, each one holding the files of the many children attending the same primary school she was. Taking in yet another deep breath, Hermione set off to find the third-grade filing cabinet that held her scores for the previous term, muttering the labels to herself as she went past them.

“Ah-ha!” she cried in satisfaction as she found  _ Third Grade, G-K _ . She quickly began riffling through it until she came across  _ Hermione Granger _ and pulled her file out. There it was, the grade that had started this whole journey. A big fat B.

Once again concentrating all her willpower on that single letter, Hermione told the B to become an A. It wasn’t her fault that the teacher hadn’t explained the assignment properly; and Hermione had done what she thought the assignment was perfectly. The teacher had even said so, that was the reason she had gotten a B instead of something lower even though it was a completely different piece of work than what the assignment wanted.

The B slowly changed shape and was an A, Hermione grinned down at the paper and quickly shoved it back into the filing cabinet. With her dastardly plan completed, she hurried out of the room to join Percy at the door. He grinned down at her and she grinned back.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

After that Hermione found herself in Percy’s company more often than not. Every break they had would be spent together. He had taken the young girl under his wing and was happy teaching his apprentice all the tricks of the trade whilst also keeping her away from the bullies that liked to target the bookworm.

It would be safe to say that Hermione Granger was no longer the strict rule-abiding student that she had once been and she was very happy about that. It was a tie between her time reading and her time spent with Percy as to which one was her favourite. Her parents were happy that she was happy and even happier that she finally had a friend that wasn’t from a book.

During one break, Percy brought up Hermione’s first adventure to the records room. “So why were you trying to set the door on fire when I took you on as my apprentice?”

Hermione choked on her apple juice. She had not told Percy what she had done to her file or how she had done it and he had never asked before. It wasn’t so much that she was keeping it a secret, more that she didn’t know how to tell her best friend that she was, possibly, a witch or something similar. Percy may be happy-go-lucky but how would feel when his protégé stated she was something that only existed in stories?

“I, uh, I was editing my report card…”

“Okay,” Percy drawled, “and how exactly did you manage that when everything is either typed or written in ink?”

“Iusedmagic,” Hermione rushed out.

“Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I… used magic.”

There was silence for a few seconds as Percy processed that and when he did speak, it was a simple, “Huh, cool.”

That was the end of that conversation. Occasionally Percy would ask a question about her abilities, and if she didn’t know the answer, they would try to figure it out between them. Thus, started their magic lessons with the both of them doing research into the different types of magic found in various books and testing to see if Hermione could do similar things.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

It had been a week since Hermione had last seen Percy, and she was getting worried. Although the older boy was a troublemaker, he didn’t miss school; and he certainly didn’t miss it when he knew Hermione was waiting for him. She was so worried that she was contemplating going to find his file and checking that nothing serious had happened to him that had been noted.

Another week went by, and Hermione had made up her mind; she was going to find Percy’s file and make sure that he would be coming back. That morning break, she snuck into the office and, using her magic to make others not see her, located Percy’s file. Quickly flipping through it she stopped at the giant red stamp that stated the worst possible thing to have happened to her friend and teacher.

Expelled. Percy had been expelled. Expelled due to the many strikes against him for his delinquent behaviour. Hermione shut the file and escaped the stifling office, running to their spot beside the boundary fence in a desperate hope that Percy would be there and the file was lying.

Percy was there, but he was on the wrong side of the fence. He smiled sadly in greeting as he saw her run towards him. “I guess you snuck in and found my file, huh?”

“Please say that it’s not true!”

“Sorry, Glinda, no can do. It’s worse than that though, I won’t be able to come here ever again, my family is moving to Scotland tomorrow. I won’t be here anymore.”

Tears made their way to and out of Hermione’s eyes as she heard this and she shook her head in denial, “No, I won’t let it happen! I’ll use my magic and change it!”

“You can’t, not this time. Don’t cry, Hermione,” Percy’s hands came through the gaps in the fence and he wiped away her tears. “We had fun together, didn’t we? Hold onto that fun and never forget the times we had together. I need someone to take over my throne, after all.”

Hermione gave a watery laugh at that and Percy smiled, “I will see you again, Percy.”

“I’m counting on it. Now off you go, the bell’s about to ring and you have to keep your image of being a good girl if you want to be a sneaky troublemaker. You’ll see me again, Glinda, you just wait.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Hermione followed the rules and waited. She waited for three years until a stern looking woman came and told her she was a witch; that she had been invited to attend a magic school in Scotland. There was no question of whether or not she would go, no matter what her parents thought.

Hermione was going to Scotland, and she was going to see Percy again. She wasn’t going to leave until she found Percy, not even if she was expelled; although, she’d try to avoid that if she could. Two was better than one, after all, and she had not been very good at causing mischief on her own.


	13. Bellatrix's Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bellatrix/Lucius  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns & Merry the Great

The Black family had a duty to their blood to keep it pure and untainted by muggles or mudbloods. This was achieved through marriage contracts with other Pureblood families. The Black family had three daughters they could offer to the Pureblood families; Narcissa, the youngest, Andromeda, in the middle and Bellatrix, the eldest.

After much discussion and negotiation, it was decided that Narcissa would be gifted to the Malfoy family. Andromeda was promised to the Rosier family, and Bellatrix to the Lestrange family. This was what the Heads had decided; and this was what would happen. As each child graduated Hogwarts, they were married to their betrothed and sent off to continue each family line.

Bellatrix was happy with Roldolphus Lestrange. He didn’t require much from her, and she was generally free to do as she wished. Then she went into the Dark Lord’s service and everything changed. Voldemort was everything she had ever believed a pureblood to be; he was powerful, focused, driven, charming, and so much more. She wanted to do everything she could for him and his cause, but Roldolphus did not understand her desire and refused to help her, even as he remained a loyal servant to the Dark Lord.

So the eldest Black sister found another way to serve her Lord. Although Andromeda had been purged from their family for running away with a muggleborn and not honouring the marriage contract the Blacks held with the Rosier family, Narcissa was married to Lucius Malfoy. Though they had been married for a few years now, there had been no word of a child on the way, and Bellatrix wondered why.

The next time she went to visit her parents she brought the topic up in conversation and received a most intriguing answer. Her sister was barren and there was no spell that could help her provide a child for her husband. An idea sparked in Bellatrix’s mind, Lucius was the Dark Lord’s right-hand man; she could pretend to be her sister and provide him a child. The Malfoy family could continue to serve the Dark Lord, even after Lucius had passed.

That very night, before she left the Black family home, Bellatrix snuck up to Narcissa’s old room and stole a hairbrush from where it was laying on the dresser. She would have to enlist Severus’ help in making the Polyjuice Potion, but she was sure that wouldn’t be a hardship. She would just tell him it was for the Dark Lord.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Shall we go to bed, Husband?” Lucius smiled up at his wife from lounge he had been reading on and took the hand she was offering him. As he let her lead him towards the bedroom, he wondered what he was going to do about getting an heir for the Malfoy family. He loved his wife dearly and did not wish to have to bring in another woman to act as a carrier.

But that was for another day. Now Narcissa was smiling suggestively at him, and he happily joined her in their rather large bed. Who knew, maybe a miracle would happen and Narcissa would bear them a child without outside help.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Bellatrix rubbed her swollen stomach and whispered soothing words to the child growing inside of her. Roldolphus didn’t suspect that the child was not his, and she would keep it that way until she was in her third trimester. She could do this for the Dark Lord, and she could make sure his right-hand man would have a son to teach and eventually take his place.

The door to her solarium slammed open and her father, Roldolphus, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa all entered. She stepped backwards, eyes flicking from person to person as Lucius advanced upon her.

“Did you pretend to be your sister one night and as a result of that, carrying the Malfoy heir in your womb?” the aristocratic blond demanded tightly.

“Yes.” Bellatrix said proudly before swallowing at the disgusted and disappointed looks sent her way.

Lucius nodded once, turned on his heel and addressed her father, “Lord Black, I request Line Repossession.”

Cygnus Black nodded in acceptance and withdrew his wand. Bellatrix backed away in earnest as the three men advance on her, but Roldolphus managed to grab her and hold her still as Lucius and Cygnus performed the spell that would remove the fetus from her womb and place it into Narcissa’s. It was a spell not often used; it would only work if Line Theft had been attempted and then only within the first trimester.

Bellatrix screamed as the pain hit her, her insides were twisting, stretching and retracting as her baby was forcibly removed from her body and placed inside Narcissa. An answering scream echoed around the glass walls of the solarium as Narcissa’s body was prepared and then forced to accept the fetus from Bellatrix.

Once the spell was complete, the two women collapsed into unconsciousness. Narcissa was carefully carried out by both her husband and father while Roldolphus stayed by Bellatrix’s side. Even though she had purposefully gone to another man, she was his wife and he was her husband. They had vowed to stay by each other’s side, and he would keep that vow.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The void where her child should have been never vanished and Bellatrix slowly went insane. She would always protect him, even if he was no longer hers.

 


	14. Sands of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "If I could turn back time and undo what I've done..."  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

_Sands of time, take me back_

_Before it all went wrong_

_When love was but a song_

_And tomorrow shone as brightly as the sun_

_Teach me to undo what's done_

_Sands of time, take me back_

_~Sands of Time, Twisted_

They had been looked upon strangely when they had arrived at Hogwarts and remained friends while sorted into opposing houses. The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was infamous and thought to be impossible to overcome. Somehow, they had managed to do it and their relationship stayed strong until the one mistake he made in fifth year.

Severus Snape was the bat of the dungeons, the greasy git of Hogwarts, the least liked professor and he was content with that. For the past eleven years he had been atoning for his mistake in whatever way he could.

In the beginning, he had hated Lily Evans as she refused to accept his many apologies and decided to become what she thought he already was; now he simply wanted his friend back. He knew that this was the year her son would be attending Hogwarts, and he would have to see the boy’s face every day for the next seven years.

As he sat in front of the glowing fire in his quarters at Hogwarts, Severus stared into the glass of brandy he had been holding but not drinking for the past hour. Images from his memories were projected onto the warm liquid as his past with Lily plodded through his mind. He had been staring at the two of them fervently studying for OWLs for a while now, it was the last happy memory he had with his childhood best friend. _It_ had happened the next day.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

_Severus was sitting under the tree by the Black Lake getting some last-minute studying in before Lily came down to meet him when he heard the laughter he had learned to dread draw closer to his position. He shrunk into himself, hoping beyond hope that maybe they wouldn’t see him this time. His hopes were in vain, however, as James Potter spotted him almost instantly and he directed the other Marauder’s attentions towards the skinny Slytherin._

_“Hey, look at that Moony, Padfoot. A slimy Slytherin all by his lonesome. Guess we’ll have to teach him a lesson.”_

_Severus abandoned his books and stood up, hand hovering over his wand in case he needed to draw it, “You’ve already tried to teach me several lessons, Potter. They never seem to do you any good so why don’t you stop trying?”_

_The Marauders all laughed while Potter sneered at him, “It’s my duty to teach those who are of a lesser class than myself. Maybe if you stopped hanging around those who are above you and stick to your own, slimy, kind I wouldn’t have to try so hard.”_

_“Lily is my friend!” Severus snarled; he knew that his friendship with the redhead was the main reason Potter and his cronies tormented him but Lily was his only friend and he wasn’t going to let anyone tear them apart._

_A whispered spell later and Severus was hanging upside down in mid-air. “Hey, who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s trousers?”_

_Severus started struggling in earnest when he heard that but unfortunately, Potter was a fairly adept wizard, even in fifth year. He just hoped that Lily wouldn’t arrive until after the Marauders were finished with him. Once again, it seemed all his hopes were in vain as Lily Evans came storming into the little group that had formed around Severus’ hanging body and started yelling at Potter._

_“Leave him alone!”_

_Potter’s attitude changed immediately and he was the charming, smooth pureblood heir once again, “All right, Evans?”_

_“Leave him alone,” Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. “What’s he done to you?”_

_“Well,” Potter pretended to think about that for a few seconds, “it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.”_

_Severus groaned internally, this feud would never be finished. He stopped paying attention to the conversation happening around him and instead tried to think up a plan of escape and retaliation. He was jerked out of his thoughts as he fell down to earth again._

_Potter sneered down at him,_ _“You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus —”_

_“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!”_

_Lily blinked and Severus immediately regretted his words. “Fine,” she said coolly. “I won’t bother in future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you,_ Snivellus _.”_

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

That was the day that he had lost it all and descended into darkness. How he wished he could have thought through his words before he spoke them but unfortunately that was not a skill he had learned at the tender age of fifteen. He had spent the rest of the year trying to talk to Lily, even camping out in front of the Gryffindor common room one night, but she had never spoken to him again. The loss of her in his life had made him search out darker and darker magics until he had finally agreed to go with Lucius Malfoy and meet Lord Voldemort.

Severus shivered even with the fire burning, those were memories he did not want to relive. Instead he returned to his happier memories of Lily Evans, she was never Potter in his mind, always Evans. His best friend.

“If I could turn back time and undo what I've done…" he murmured softly to the empty room, thinking about all the days he missed out on because of his stupid words said in the heat of the moment. He had always known that the Marauders were trouble but that had to be the most damaging thing they had ever caused him.

He wished he had thought of grabbing a time-turner when he was young but then again, would it have made any difference? A time traveller could not interact with themselves without facing dire consequences. It was the first rule of time travel; you must not be seen.

Lily Evans was forever lost to him, and the Sands of Time would not answer his plea. He could never undo what he had done but perhaps, through her son, he could atone for both his actions and his words.


	15. The Madness of One Can Harm Many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Aurors  
> Theme: Security  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

“Can a person ever be entirely sure of their own safety? Or is it simply wilful naivety that makes us feel certain we are safe? These are some of the questions you should ask as you make out your way through the training to become a security blanket that the general public has learned to rely on. Welcome to Auror training.”

Applause rang out as the speaker bowed his head in thanks and stepped back. His place was taken by Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, “Thank you, Harry. Now, onto business. There are several classes in Auror training and several different teachers. Each teacher…”

Harry Potter tuned out Kingsley’s speech as he sat on the chair provided for him on the little stage they used for assemblies within the Auror department. It was a strategic placement, as always. He was there to give support to the minister and therefore, had to be seen alongside or just behind him whenever he and Kingsley were in the same room.

Even though Harry had stopped being an Auror a few years after he had been officially inducted, he was still the Saviour of the Wizarding World and still as famous as he had been during his Hogwarts years. More famous, even, due to the fact that he had succeeded in ridding the world of Voldemort once and for all.

He had spent those few years as an Auror trying to catch the Death Eaters that had escaped after the Battle of Hogwarts but had eventually realised that it would be impossible to catch all of them. Even with the Dark Lord dead, there were still people who believed in his ways and converted others to supporting Voldemort as well. The sects had begun popping up more and more until Harry had had enough and thrown his badge upon Kingsley’s desk before storming out.

Surprisingly enough, once he had retired the number of new sects died down. Maybe they felt that with Harry no longer taking an active part in society, they didn’t need to try so hard to keep Voldemort alive in spirit and memory. Harry didn’t know, but he was just glad they had stopped.

Harry Potter was now quite content with his life. He had married Ginny and had three wonderful children. Yes, every now and again, Kingsley demanded his presence for this or that, and yes, he had to attend the Ministry Balls that were held for the end of the war but all in all he had a pretty good life.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Harry inhaled deeply as he stepped into the little house he shared with his family, the air was rich with the scent of freshly baked biscuits and he could hear the giggles coming from the kitchen. He grinned at the sight of his beautiful wife and daughter, both of them covered in flour as their masterpieces sat cooling on the bench.

They looked up as he entered the kitchen and Lily ran towards him full pelt and threw herself into his arms, consequently covering him in flour. “Daddy, we made biscuits!”

“I can see that, lovely. Did you have fun?” he settled his daughter on his hip as he made his way to Ginny and gave her a quick kiss in greeting.”

Lily giggled, “Yup! Me and Mum had a flour fight! I won.”

“Did you now? I don’t suppose Daddy’s allowed to taste test your creations?”

“Course you can, Daddy! I’ll get you one that I made.” With that, the young girl slipped down and ran to the tray of biscuits where she proceeded to look them over very seriously as she decided which one to give her father.

Harry slipped an arm around Ginny’s waist as she leaned against him, “Good day?”

“Yes, the boys are working on their Hogwarts prep work that Hermione gave them. Lily and I decided to make biscuits for when you came home and I’m sure James and Albus won’t mind helping demolish them.”

“Here you are, Dad!” Lily held up a singular biscuit and beamed up at him.

He grinned at her and took it. Nibbling a bit off, he pretended he was a biscuit connoisseur while Lily giggled and Ginny looked on fondly. “Hmm, I detect a slight hint of cinnamon. The texture is just right, light and crispy on the outside while the inside is still slightly gooey. I do say that this is one of the best biscuits I have ever tasted!”

The biscuits were plated up and taken into the living room where James and Albus were working on the things Hermione had sent. “Biscuits are ready, boys! And look who it is, Dad’s back from work!”

The two boys immediately cheered and abandoned their work as they each hugged their father and grabbed a biscuit. The family of five all settled around the unlit fireplace and caught up with each other. It was a tradition of theirs to do this every time Harry had to go out, either for his freelancing work in the muggle world or his duties as the Saviour.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

That night Harry woke with the feeling that something was wrong. He didn’t often get these feelings, generally only when he was dealing with Voldemort or his followers, and he hadn’t had one ever since he had retired from the Auror forces. The fact that, right now, that feeling was making itself known was worrying.

Cautiously, he slipped out of bed and picked up his wand from the nightstand. A glance at Ginny told him she was still asleep, and he let her be. He didn’t want to wake her up for no reason. He padded silently down the hall, peeking into the children’s rooms as he passed them. There was nothing out of place; the house was still, yet the feeling of _ wrong _ didn’t fade. In fact, it grew stronger as he continued his patrol.

A force hit his back and Harry fell forwards; the  _ Petrificus Totalus _ making sure that he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon. He felt a foot nudge his side and roll him over. He was greeted with the masked form of his attacker. They were wearing a Death Eater mask, and Harry was instantly filled with fear for his family.

“Hello,  _ Saviour _ ,” the masked attacker mocked. “Do you want to know why I’m here?”

Harry could say nothing so he settled for glaring at what he presumed to be a male, judging by their voice.

“Oh, I forgot, you can’t speak. Well, I’ll tell you anyway. I’m here to get some retribution for myself and my family. I have been waiting  _ years _ for this chance and it has finally arrived.” The attacker twirled his wand and continued, “See, I was on your side once. I was a good citizen who had nothing to do with the Dark Arts or You-Know-Who. But You-Know-Who had something to do with me and you  _ didn’t stop it! _ ”

Harry was now staring in confusion at the clearly deranged person who had broken into his house and petrified him. “Ahem, sorry, I tend to lose control of my emotions when talking about this subject. As I was saying, You-Know-Who sought me out and offered me a deal. Me, being the good citizen that I was, refused even as he tortured me.”

“After a week of staying in his dungeons, I managed to escape and I thought that would be the end of it. The war was heating up and it seemed as if all the Dark Lord was interested in was killing you, but no, You-Know-Who wasn’t done with me.”

“He came into my home, petrified me and then killed my family in front of me while I was helpless to stop him. He was about to kill me too but then he said some of his followers had caught the Boy-Who-Lived and left me there,  _ staring at the dead bodies of my family! _ And do you know what? If you had just  _ killed him _ when you were a baby like everyone  _ said you had, it wouldn’t have happened at all _ !”

“It’s all your fault,  _ Hero _ , and now I’m going to do to you what he did to me. And I’m all dressed for the occasion. I think it’s time you introduced me to your family, don’t you?”

Harry let out a muffled yell as he tried his hardest to break the spell, he would not let this madman kill his family in some twisted form of revenge. The attacker chuckled and gave him a little wave before slinking off in the direction of the bedrooms.

Try as he might, Harry could not break the petrification placed on him and soon enough his wife and children were walking placidly into the living room. He could tell from the glazed eyes that they had been placed under the Imperius Curse. He watched helplessly as each one was tied up with an  _ Incarcerous _ and released from the Imperius as soon as they were tightly bound.

Ginny realised what was going on almost immediately and worked on keeping their children from panicking too much. Harry fell in love with her even more as he saw how she dealt with the situation at hand; she was so strong even when she was tied up and helpless.

He screamed when she did as the sudden  _ Crucio _ hit her, “There is no comfort to be offered to your children, little missy! They  _ will die _ , no matter what you try to do to save them.”

A barrage of spells began, and Harry watched in horror as all types of Dark spells were directed towards his loving family. He couldn’t move, couldn’t close his eyes or jump in to save them. When the self-appointed Death Eater had finished their work, they grinned at Harry and swiftly made their escape, disappearing through the wards that should have kept them out.

Harry was left staring at his family until the binds of the petrifying spell had worn off. Slowly, he crawled towards Ginny and gathered her in his arms, rocking back and forth. As he sat there, cradling his dead wife and surrounded by his dead children, one thought echoed through his mind.

_ Where were the Aurors? _


	16. Sirius' Security Blanket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Trunk  
> Theme: Security  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Sirius never unpacked his trunk when he arrived home from Hogwarts. He didn’t really like his home and only called it home because he had lived there all his life. His  _ home _ was the Potter Mansion, and that was where he spent most of his time if he could escape the Black house. It went like this: Sirius would arrive home, the Blacks would have a dinner to celebrate the return of both Sirius and Regulus, the House Elves would wash Sirius’ dirty clothes from his trunk, Sirius would make sure his trunk was still fully packed, then Sirius would leave the house and make his way to the Potter’s.

He never took his trunk with him, but it was packed in the event that he actually wanted or needed to leave his ancestral home forever. James had some of Sirius’ things that the boy could use when he ended up staying over at the Potter’s and needed more than what he had arrived with. The young Black was always welcome at the Potter’s; and he knew that they were one of the only reasons he could still keep a smile on his face.

At home there were a lot of well- and ill-concealed looks of disappointment and disapproval sent his way. Sirius delighted in shoving his sorting into Gryffindor in his family’s faces with his brightly decorated room and wearing the red and gold associated with that house whenever they had been invited to a function. He refused to wear the more ‘respectable’ green and silver colours of Slytherin or even the subdued blue and grey colours of Ravenclaw.

The Black’s had nothing to do with Hufflepuff, who they thought as a load of wishy-washy people that were soft and of no use to society. Sirius quite liked some Hufflepuff’s he knew but he didn’t mention the house to his family. He knew that that would get him disowned quicker than getting into Gryffindor and being best friends with a Potter would. There was almost nothing a Black hated more than a Hufflepuff being in power; if they couldn’t be placed in a house where ambition was important, why would they be placed in a position where ambition was the most important thing?

So, with all this in mind, Sirius never unpacked his trunk and always had it ready in case he should ever need to leave quickly. It was his raft, his security blanket if things went bad; and they were spoiling to go bad at any moment within the current environment of the Wizarding World. The Dark Lord, You-Know-Who was making waves, and more and more Purebloods were gathering behind him.

His own family was leaning towards following him. The man had power; he was the Heir of Slytherin—or so he claimed—and the Blacks had always been loyal to Slytherin. Except Sirius because Sirius Black was the outcast and he would never follow a Slytherin unless it was to play a prank on said Slytherin.

His trunk sat at the end of his bed every night; and every night he would check it over, just in case. He took care of his trunk for he knew that it may well save his life one day. Once he had graduated from Hogwarts, it moved from the Black house to a small, sheltered cave that was fiercely warded against any intrusions that weren’t Sirius himself, and there it stayed. It sat there patiently waiting while its owner was in Azkaban.

It would wait until the day Sirius remembered it and went to fetch it. In that trunk were the two-way mirrors he and James had used. He would give one of them to his godson, Harry Potter, and that way Harry would always be secure in the knowledge that his godfather was there for him, day or night, no matter what.


	17. The Death of a Bachelor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)  
> Task: Write about killing someone with kindness

Hermione Granger was known for her adventures with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter; together they were the Golden Trio. Hermione was the very driven by equality as evidenced by her creation of S.P.E.W and she was now determined to make sure that the Slytherins who had fought in the war against Voldemort were treated with respect. Ron was working out different strategies they could use to bring the public around while Harry was using his hated fame to talk to the public.

Draco Malfoy was Hermione’s personal project. She was determined that he would be able to walk down Diagon Alley without being side-eyed or threatened. At the moment, he wasn't very receptive of her efforts; tending to spend most of his time in Malfoy Manor away from the world, but she had high hopes that she would be able to bring him out of his seclusion.

She was currently waiting at a little restaurant in said Alley where she had invited Draco to meet her five minutes ago. There was a slight chance that he wouldn't come but there was also the chance that, like all the other times, he came later in the hopes that she would leave before he arrived. The door opened and she smiled at Draco as he walked in and he scowled back.

“Granger.”

“Hello, Draco. How nice of you to come out of your manor to spend this time with me.”

“Whatever, Granger, let's just get your obligatory weekly community service meeting over with. You Gryffindor’s are always so controlled by your emotions.”

“I've told you before and I'll tell you again, Draco. I'm doing this because I want to, because you deserve more than what everyone has been giving you.”

“Honestly, Granger, I don't care. Just leave me alone.”

“No. Now let's enjoy a nice cup of tea and a chat and then we can go to Flourish and Blotts to see if they have any good new books.”

Draco sighed but acquiesced and Hermione smiled to herself, one step closer.

 ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Draco collapsed on the chaise in front of his fireplace when he exited the Floo. His time with Hermione Granger every week drained all the energy from him and he needed the whole next week to recover. He wasn't used to positive energy being focused towards him. His life when he had been growing up had been full of lessons on how to behave as a pure blood. There were etiquette lessons and magic lessons but there had been no time for affectionate family times, especially not when the Dark Lord has surfaced again.

It felt like Hermione was trying to kill him slowly as she continued to force him to socialise and leave his safe little corner of the world. He liked living in his manor; he experimented on his potions, read his books and was content with himself. He knew who he was, he was a Slytherin who had defied the Heir of Slytherin and sided with the Boy-Who-Lived. 

Hermione Granger might think that what she was doing was what was best for him, but she was instead destroying what little he had left with her acts of ‘kindness’.


	18. A Seventh Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)  
> Task: Write a story in which the number seven plays an important role

Salazar Slytherin was the Seventh Son of a Seventh Son in a pure blood family. He grew up learning the importance of the number seven and how, as a Seventh Son, his magic prowess would increase the more he paid tribute to the number. A Seventh Son was a gift and brought prestige to the family that produced such a miracle. A Seventh Son of a Seventh Son was a gift from Lady Magic herself and the family would forever be remembered as one of the Greats.

A Seventh Son of the Seventh Son was Fate whispering to the world that change was coming and the Seventh Son would aid and abet, guide and bring about that change. All Magical Kind knew that when such a son was produced, they should prepare to deal with the outcome, whatever that may be. This Seventh Son would change the Wizarding World completely.

As Salazar was growing up, he made friends with the family next door and spent most of his free time playing with their daughter, Helga. The Slytherin’s were hesitant about this companionship as the Hufflepuff’s were not in such high a standing as the Slytherins. However, they saw the influence that little Helga had on their son and decided that it was a good influence, so they decided to allow the friendship to continue.

Helga Hufflepuff was a sweet and demure girl who worked hard at everything she put her mind to. She didn't care about the snobbish practices of the higher class and accepted everyone as they were, a quality that she tried to impart on Salazar. And so--with the influence of Helga--Salazar Slytherin became a noble-born pure blood who didn't mind slumming it with the poor on occasion.

When Salazar began to learn magic under the Master that had taken him in, he learned alongside a female. Now, due to his friendship and regard for Helga, he did not mind learning alongside the fairer sex. Instead he was cordial to the other apprentice and they eventually became friends. Rowena Ravenclaw was an incredibly bright person and strove to discover everything she could about the world around her and the magic that ran through her body.

Salazar became her test subject and she, his. While Rowena would draw complicated diagrams and then wave her wand around, Salazar would work over a cauldron and Rowena would test them as Salazar wrote down the effects. This was always done under the supervision of their Master in case an experiment went awry.

When he was sixteen; Salazar was noble and unrefined, clever and foolish. He was a mix of conflicting traits that should never be found in a single being. And yet, there he was, a blend of what he had learned from his family, Helga and Rowena. The three of them had dreams of becoming something more, with Salazar as the unofficial leader due to him being the Seventh Son of the Seventh Son. Then another Seventh Son came along.

Godric Gryffindor was a charming man who exuded confidence and friendliness. He charmed his way into the group of three by aiding Rowena when she had been targeted by some overzealous and drunk males looking for company. They had quickly run away when Godric, big and burly with muscles on muscles, had entered the stable and demanded what they thought they were doing.

The four were discussing their plans for the future a few seasons later when Godric, drunk on mead and the close-knit friendship he was now a part of, declared, “I propose a school!”

“Yes! A school of magic and research!” Rowena exclaimed delightedly.

Helga smiled happily at the image in her mind, “A school for all with magic to learn without needing to worry about being seen.”

“An excellent idea,” Salazar agreed, “but where will we put this school of magic and research that all who have magic are free to learn and practice?”

Godric subsided, he hadn’t thought of that. It was Rowena who said, “There is a place. It is rumoured to be the site of Camelot, where King Arthur ruled with Merlin by his side. It can only be found by those who have need of it and who have Magic by their side.”

It was settled, the four of them would journey out to find the site of the great citadel Camelot and transform it into a school. Salazar and Godric, the Seventh Sons, were both blessed by Magic. Godric, the loud, brash and compassionate warrior. Rowena, the quiet, reserved and learned scholar. Helga, the kind, brave and knowledgeable healer. Salazar, the noble, humble and cunning alchemist.

Together they were the Founders Four and together they created a school of magic that would carry on teaching for centuries. The seven original students became hundreds. The seven years of learning imparted wisdom on all who passed through the halls of what once was Camelot. Through them it became Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	19. The Battle of Wills and Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Broken Wand  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

After the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry had used the Elder Wand to repair his trusty holly and phoenix feather wand, he thought that the power of the Elder Wand would be broken. It hadn’t been stolen through death or violence;instead, it was peacefully resting in a tomb with Albus Dumbledore. Or at least, it was supposed to be peacefully resting in a tomb with Albus Dumbledore. Rather, it was sitting innocently in Harry’s palm as though it had never left.

The Saviour of the Wizarding World stared at the piece of wood in his hand, it had appeared on his bedside table while he slept. He hadn’t noticed it at first as it had been hidden by the breakfast tray Kreacher had taken to bringing him every morning, but there it was, merrily sitting there as though he hadn’t just placed it in Dumbledore’s tomb the previous day.

There was an aura of repressed energy emanating from the wand as it sat in his hand; and Harry wasn’t so sure he wanted to deal with it today. So, he placed it back on the bedside table and decided to ignore it until it went away as he went to take a shower and start his day. Except when he had finished his shower and was attempting to calm his hair down a bit, the wand was sitting on the bathroom counter.

Harry sighed and stopped messing with his hair—it was never going to calm down anyway--before walking out of the bathroom and getting dressed. The wand sat on the counter, and he ignored it. So went the pattern of the day; Harry would move around and go about his daily life as the wand appeared on different surfaces in the room that he occupied at that moment. Each time Harry ignored the wand and moved on without interacting with it in any way, the wand’s wood grew steadily darker until it was the darkest grey it could be without turning black.

It was at this point that Harry figured he should probably do something about the Elder Wand. He had ignored it all day, and the problem hadn’t gone away. Instead, it had possibly worsened. How Harry loved the Potter-luck he had inherited. Feeling a little silly, Harry sat down on the couch and directed his attention to the wand sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“Elder Wand, this has got to stop,” the wand simply sat there and Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. “What I mean is- I already have a wand. And it’s a brilliant wand, I love my wand. I do not need you and you should right now be with your last owner because that is where I put you. Understand?”

Harry really hoped the Elder Wand understood in some way or another because otherwise, he had just talked to an inanimate piece of wood and expected it to heed his words by not following him around.

When he woke up the next day, it was to find his holly wand in two pieces and the Elder Wand next to it. He groaned, decided he didn’t want to talk to a wand and picked up the Elder Wand, pointed it at his holly one and cast  _ reparo _ . Then he snapped the Elder Wand in two pieces and threw it into the waste paper basket next to his desk. Hopefully, that would solve all his problems.

The next morning, he was greeted with his holly wand in three pieces and the Elder Wand, completely intact, once again sitting next to it. “No,” he said and proceeded to repair and then break, just as he had the day before.

It became a battle of wills. Every morning, Harry would wake up and be greeted by the sight of his holly wand in more pieces than the day before with the Elder Wand next to it. It didn’t matter how many pieces he broke the Elder Wand in to, it didn’t matter if he put the Elder Wand in a warded bubble. Nothing he did worked.

Eventually, Harry woke up to the scent of smoke and looked forlornly on the ashes that had once been holly and phoenix feather. He threw up his hands in defeat, “Fine! Fine, I will use you. Just stop breaking my wand! And you have to repair it as well. If I have to use you, I’m going to use both of you.”

Ashes became pristine wood and the inky blackness of the Elder Wand once more became white. Harry hung his head and sighed, why was his life so complicated? Why had he been involved in a duel of wills with a  _ wand _ ? Unfortunately, Harry didn’t have the answers; and he doubted Hermione would either. Still, at least his holly wand wasn’t going to be broken every morning from now on.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Really?” Harry asked as he stared at the separate pieces of the wand he had received when he was eleven. “ _ Really _ ?”

The Elder Wand pulsed and Harry got the feeling it was laughing at him. Of course, he had to get a prankster wand. He was the son of a Marauder, after all. How had this formed into his life?


	20. James Potter and the Muggle Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)  
> Houses Prompt: Robe  
> Hogwarts Task: Write about a wizard trying to blend in wearing muggle clothing  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

James took a deep breath; he was going on a date with Lily today, and she had suggested going into the muggle world. James, of course, said that it was a brilliant idea and he was all for it. Until he realised that going into the muggle world meant that he had to figure out how the muggles dressed. The muggles seemed to have so many different types of clothing, and he was used to wearing robes; wizards wore robes not the ensemble that the muggles somehow managed to jumble together.

Earlier that day, he and Sirius Black had gone out into Muggle London and tried to find some suitable attire. Seeing as they both came from wizard families, they really didn’t know what to look for; but they tried. They had gone into at least two shops and followed other males around to see if they could pick up any hints. In the end, Sirius had just shoved an article of clothing that was the most robe-like and they had left after giving the cashier some paper.

Now James was examining himself in the mirror to make sure that he was presentable. The robe-like thing Sirius had chucked at his face was a simple straight down piece of fabric with a sash around the waist. James didn’t quite understand why a sash was needed but there it was, and he had cast a simple colour-change charm to transform it into Potter colours. He was ready.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Whatever James had expected when he arrived at the meeting place Lily had suggested, it was not Lily taking one look at him and bursting into laughter. He grinned at her—he always liked her laugh—and twirled around to show off how muggle he looked. Shaking her head, Lily had kissed him and then started pushing him into a nearby alley.

“James, what are you wearing?”

“Muggle clothes!” he said proudly, “I couldn’t very well wear a robe, now could I?”

“So, you found the next best thing?”

James was astounded, how had she known that was what he had done? It was official, his Lily was a genius. “At least it’s muggle, no one will suspect that I’m a wizard and then somehow make me break the Statute. Because I am wearing muggle clothes!”

“Yes. Yes, you are wearing muggle clothes, James.  _ Female _ muggle clothes.”

He blinked, looked down at himself and then back up at her, “Really?”

“Really.”

“How can you tell?” Lily rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand before dragging him out of the alley way and towards a nearby clothes shop.

“Come on, you moron wizard. I’m going to teach you all about the complexities of muggle clothing.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The world of muggle clothing had been a mystery to James for the entirety of his life thus far; and even as he was getting a lesson on everything you needed to know about it, he felt that he would never understand everything. Muggles wore things because they apparently looked good, no matter how uncomfortable they were. He felt as if he were a contortionist with how much he had to squeeze into some of the clothes Lily shoved at him. All while she was nattering on about what was what and who would wear it.

“In the muggle world, men only wear dresses, which is what your ‘robes’ were, if they’re pretending to be a female and are looked down upon for not being the epitome of manliness. Instead, you wear trousers and a shirt, occasionally with suspenders. Suspenders are these,” she held up what looked like three pieces of fabric connected together in an improbable way, “and they help keep your trousers from falling down.

“If you need to be dressed up, instead of wearing Family Robes, you wear a suit. Which is this,” here she held up a shirt, a mini shirt without sleeves, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of trousers. “The layer of shirt, vest and jacket is very fashionable and is definitely what you want to wear if you ever decide to go out to a fancy dinner in the muggle world. You also need a tie, which you’ll need to learn how to tie.

“And there is also, of course, dancing gear which you’re going to need tonight. Disco is the height of muggle entertainment right now, so I figured we’d have some fun and do some dancing. Pet’s been talking about this one place ever since I got home from Hogwarts and apparently, it’s the best, so we have to go there. Here, try this one.”

James caught the shirt and trouser combination Lily had thrown at him and wandered back inside the changing room in a daze. He had no idea what was going on. Except, maybe, they were going dancing tonight, and he had to look the part which consisted of extremely tight trousers and an even tighter shirt that was covered in a colourful feather pattern.

“How do I look?” he asked uncertainly as he stepped back into the store. Lily looked him over, tutted a few times and then passed him another colourful outfit to try on. He sighed and went back in the small room to somehow eek his way out of tight outfit and squeeze himself into another one.

They repeated this process a few times until Lily finally professed herself to be happy with the outfit she had given him. Painted onto his body was a pair of black trousers and a shimmering leopard print shirt that was in all sorts of different colours as if a rainbow had decided to smear itself all over a piece of fabric. He wanted his makeshift robe with its sash of Potter colours back.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

A few years later—just a couple of weeks before Halloween in 1981—James leapt down the stairs and spun around to show Lily his chosen outfit. Even though they were in hiding, they had decided to go out into the muggle world and attend a few early Halloween parties. Lily’s mouth dropped open and then her head fell onto the kitchen counter where it proceeded to bounce up and down a few times.

“James…” she started to say but trailed off as she was once again greeted by the sight of her husband in tight black trousers and a colourful leopard print shirt.

“What?” James didn’t understand, what was wrong with his outfit?

“That died last year, no one wears that anymore. It’s just… No, no James. I will not be seen in public with you wearing that.”

“But you were seen with me wearing this three years ago! You picked this out for me!”

“Yes,  _ three years _ ago. Muggle fashion  _ changes _ and _ that _ is no longer in fashion! Go find something else.”

James went upstairs and came back down in the only other muggle thing he had. Lily’s head reacquainted itself with the kitchen countertop as she processed the fact that the ‘robe’ from three years ago had somehow survived and was still in the Potter household. James shuffled his feet, “This is the only muggle thing I have other than the dancing outfit.”

“Fine! Go get changed back into that, it’s better than having you walk around all right in a dress. Honestly, wizards and their robes. But tomorrow, we’re going shopping. I will not have my husband only owning a dress and an outdated disco outfit.”

_ At least it’s near Halloween _ , Lily thought,  _ maybe we’ll get away with it tonight _ .

Although they got a few strange looks as they walked around, it appeared that most people put James’ attire down to the closeness of Halloween. Which was good for James because it meant Lily wouldn’t be too angry with him for not keeping an updated muggle wardrobe; and good for Lily as it meant she didn’t have to suffer second-hand embarrassment of someone who wouldn’t even feel embarrassed in the first place because he was so sure that what he wore was what muggles wore and that he was fitting in perfectly. Honestly.


	21. The Silver Doe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: An Underestimated Individual  
> Theme: Discovery  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

The forest was never quiet, and it both soothed and agitated Harry as he sat beneath the tree he had chosen for that night’s watch. In the tent close by, Hermione was safely sleeping; and he hoped that she would be able to recover from Ron’s abrupt departure soon. As he looked around the little campsite they had created, Harry had a sad, small smile on his face. Camping was something that had always interested him but with the Dursleys the way they were; the only experience he had was the Quidditch World Cup that had been interrupted by Death Eaters.

A snap to his left caught his attention and Harry quickly turned his attention towards the sound. A glimmer of silver light shone through the trees and slowly formed into the shape of a large animal. The doe snorted at him and tossed its head as if telling Harry to follow it. Unsure and wary of what dangers lay outside the warded campsite and in the Forest of Dean, Harry got up and padded his way towards the doe with Hermione’s wand held out in front of him.

He hated that he had to use her wand but his had broken at Godric’s Hollow and there was no way to fix a broken wand so for now, he made do. As he had been thinking about his wand, he had been absentmindedly following the doe as it stayed a few feet in front of him and lead him away from the safety of the campsite and its wards.

Shaking his head and forcing himself to focus on the matter at hand, Harry kept following the doe until it arrived at a small clearing and disappeared into a wisp of smoke. “Hey, wait!” he called out too late as he watched the smoke drift away. Ever curious, Harry ignored the clearing and instead followed the smoke, hoping to discover the source behind the silver doe.

It led him through the trees a little way before it turned back into a doe and trotted up to a dark figure. The figure held up a hand and caressed the doe’s nose before the doe once again vanished and the smoke was pulled into the wand that the dark figure held loosely. The figure sighed, and Harry was sure he heard the name _Lily_ being whispered into the cold air.

As the figure turned, Harry tried to stifle a gasp as he saw the familiar visage of his Potions Professor and current Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape. Snape’s head snapped towards where Harry was standing, and Harry cursed inwardly. Just his luck, he had to follow a glowing doe into the forest and end up being captured by the Death Eater who had killed Dumbledore.

“You may as well come out, Potter. I know you’re there.” Harry gulped but stayed where he was. There was another sigh from Snape—though this one was more exasperated than the previous one—and the headmaster continued, “I promise I won’t hurt or capture you, Potter.”

“Why would I believe you?"

“I wouldn’t deign to delve into your brain again to find out, therefore I cannot answer that question for you. It is, perhaps, a question that you should ask yourself.”

Typical Snape. Harry debated it before finally shouting out, “Why did you kill Dumbledore?”

“Reasons that your tiny mind could not possibly comprehend, now will you come here so that I do not have to shout?”

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked as he finally stepped out from behind his tree.

Snape grimaced, “Delivering something that may help you in your task. If you had just stayed in the clearing that my patronus showed you, we would not be having this conversation, and you would not even know I was here.”

“But I didn’t stay in the clearing. What are you delivering?”

“This,” yet another sigh and a flick of his wand later, the sword of Godric Gryffindor came flying through the air to hover in front of Harry. “I believe it may be useful. Do not tell anyone you received it from me, not even your little band of friends.”

“Why would you do this? You killed Dumbledore. You’re loyal to Vol-”

“ _Don’t_ say his name!” Snape hissed and Harry stopped. “I do this for my own reasons. Perhaps you will learn of them someday but for now be confident that I am not loyal to the Dark Lord. Now go back to your campsite, it is not safe to be out of wards for too long nowadays, especially for you.”

The headmaster gave Harry a curt nod and dissipated into smoke that flew up and out of Harry’s sight. Harry stood there for a few more minutes, trying to figure everything out but eventually gave up and wandered back to the campsite. Perhaps they had all underestimated Snape and his devotion to being a slippery spy and no one but Dumbledore could see through the masks and loyalties the Slytherin wore. Harry shrugged to himself and started walking. He would think more on this within the safety of the wards; whether he wanted to help or not, Snape was right that it wasn’t wise to be outside of any warding these days.


	22. The Call of Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Father and Son  
> Theme: Disappointed vs Proud  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

There was never an option really; if he managed to somehow have this opportunity presented to him, he was going to take it. It was the chance of a lifetime, and he had always been obsessed with the creatures that were on the pamphlet he had received that fateful day. Every morning he would look eagerly towards the skies and hope that an owl would fly into their house, bringing a letter that said he had been accepted. That owl was in front of him now, and he just didn’t know if it brought an acceptance or a rejection.

“Go on then, open it!” jostled one of his brothers when they felt he had been staring at the letter for too long without doing anything.

With shaky hands he reached out and unfolded the parchment before beginning to read. The whole breakfast table was holding their breath as his eyes flicked back and forwards, taking in the words written on the parchment. The silence stretched as he carefully folded the parchment up again and stared vaguely at a spot on the old kitchen table, processing.

Eventually it grew to be too much for his family and another of his brothers plucked the letter from his hand and began to read aloud, “ _ Dear Charlie Weasley, we are pleased to inform you that your application has been accepted and we would like to offer you a place as a trainee Dragon Handler at our Dragon Reserve in Romania. Enclosed with this letter is an international portkey—” _ Fred stopped reading as the noise in the room suddenly rose and Charlie was having the life squeezed out of him by their mother.

“You did it! Oh, my baby boy, I’m so proud of you!”

Arthur patted his wife on the back, “There, there, Molly. We all know that you’re proud of him, but perhaps you could let him go? Breathing is an essential part of living, you know.”

“Yeah Mum, let him breathe!” the twins chimed in together.

Molly released her iron grip and smiled tearily at her son, arms outstretched and on his shoulders as she looked at him. Charlie drew in breath and smiled back at her, he had been a bit worried about how she would react to him leaving the Burrow to live in Romania, but she just seemed proud of him and happy that he was following his dream.

After examining her son for a bit longer, Molly bustled off to the kitchen to make a celebratory breakfast for the whole family. Everyone else drifted away, some went to watch and be dragged into helping make breakfast while others went to collapse on the floor or couch to catch some more sleep while they could. Arthur beckoned to Charlie and they walked out of the house to stand in the makeshift Quidditch pitch that lay in the backyard.

“This will be good for you, Charlie.”

“Yeah, Dad, I think it will.”

“You sure this is what you want? You sure you want to go racing off to Romania to look after dragons and leave us all behind?”

Charlie turned his head and looked towards his father, “What’s that supposed to mean, Dad?”

“Nothing, just a bit disappointed that the first chance you get you’re leaving as fast as you can. We’re not so bad, are we? I know me and your mother aren’t rich, but we survive and we’re happy? We gave you a good childhood, didn’t we?”

“Dad, this isn’t about that. Not at all. I know we’re not rich but I don’t care. If there was a Reserve in Otter St Catchpole, I’d train there. But there isn’t and the best place to learn is in Romania. Me leaving has got nothing to do with you or Mum or any else. I just have to go away for a bit to study my passion, I’ll be back.”

“You better be,” Arthur’s voice was hoarse and he pulled his son in for a hug that was almost as strong as Molly’s.

“Breakfast is ready!” Molly called from the window and the two men separated.

“Come on, let’s have some breakfast and then we’ll figure out what you need to pack.” Charlie grinned at his father and they both ran towards the kitchen table that was sure to be groaning under the weight of all the food Molly would have prepared.


	23. Cedric's Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Torn out pages  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Cedric sighed and rubbed his face vigorously with his hands. It wasn't working! No matter how he tried to phrase it, how many or how little words he used, it didn't work. There was always something off about it. It was too formal, too friendly, too direct, or too vague. He groaned as he looked down at his latest attempt before tearing out the page it was written on to throw it over his shoulder where it joined the rest of its kind. How was he supposed to do this?

He wanted to return the favour Harry Potter had done him when the fourth year had told Cedric about the First Task and the dragons. He didn't know if the young Gryffindor had worked out the egg yet, but he figured he'd try to help. If he could only word this note right!

"Hey Ced!" yelled Hugh, a fellow Hufflepuff, from the common room below. "Kitchen raid, let's go!"

Cedric glanced at his notebook—it looked very forlorn now with half its pages missing—he wasn't getting anywhere and some food might help get his brain into gear. He stood up and went to join Hugh, leaving the torn-out pages where they lay. Maybe he could just tell Harry personally?


	24. Newt's Newt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition & Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
> Prompt: Newt Scamander  
> Subject: History of Muggles  
> Task: 3b-Write about someone looking for direction in their life.  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon is bent a little bit to allow this story to exist.  
> Information on newts found on the Britannica website

He was exceptionally proud of his name; he had chosen it himself after he had discovered his passion—with the way he had discovered it, there was no question as to what his new name would be. He would always remember that day; it had been the day when everything had fallen into place. The day he had finally figured out what he wanted to do with his life.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Charlie had been occupying himself with a book when the lizard had dropped onto the page he was reading. He had stared at it for a while and it stared back at him. Eventually he ventured to say, "Hello."

The lizard blinked and said nothing. Not that Charlie really expected it to. As far as he was aware, there weren't any species of lizard that were capable of speaking English—or at all. Deciding that he didn't mind the company of the lizard, he placed the book down and gestured towards the flat surface of the desk explaining, "I can't very well keep reading if you're on my book. You can stay, just not on my book." The creature moved to the desk where it lay quite happily and Charlie continued to read.

He would occasionally glance over at the lizard and every time he did so, his curiosity increased until he could take it no more. He closed the book softly, said, "Stay here," to the lizard and went into the library in search of an encyclopedia of creatures. He found with relative ease and quickly made his way back to his room.

The lizard was still there and he smiled at it, "Right then, let's find out what you are."

He flipped through the many pages until he came upon the section on lizards. With eager eyes, he scanned the pictures and information only to sit back a few minutes later when he could find nothing that matched his visitor. He blew out a great gust of air as he fiddled with the pages and considered the lizard. It blinked at him once before scurrying over to the book and started nudging at the pages.

Confused but willing to go along with the lizard for the moment—it was a good distraction to the rest of his life where he had no idea what he was doing—he turned the pages over until the lizard stopped nudging. Charlie looked at the page and then looked at the lizard, who seemed to jerk its head towards the page. He shrugged and started reading.

_Newt_

_AMPHIBIAN_

_**Newt**_   _(family Salamandridae), generic name used to describe several partially terrestrial salamanders. The family is divided informally into newts and "true salamanders" (that is, all non-newt species within Salamandridae regardless of genus). Since there is little distinction between the two groups, this article considers the family as a whole._

Charlie looked over at the lizard—newt—and quickly apologised for assuming it was a lizard. The newt blinked at him and nudged the book again. Charlie took the hint and kept reading.

_Salamandrids range from moderately slender to robust-bodied forms. All have well-developed limbs and tails. They are usually less than 20cm (8 inches) in total length and many are less that cm (4 inches). Newts have rough skin and the skin of many salamanders is rugose (wrinkled)._

Charlie was fascinated by the information he found on the page, a whole new world was opening up to him and he wanted to dive straight in as far as he could, learn everything there was to learn. He grinned at his new friend and it seemed to grin back; then he flipped back to the very beginning of the encyclopedia and started reading.

"Charlie! Dinner's ready!" Charlie looked up from the book and saw that during the time he had been reading, the rest of the day had gone by and it was now night time. He blinked and glanced around his room, reacquainting himself with a reality that wasn't filled with fascinating creatures. He heard his mother call again, "Charlie?"

"Coming!" Closing the encyclopedia with exaggerated care, Charlie hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Charlie took a deep breath and looked around his now mostly barren room. This was it, the moment his entire life had been leading up to. There wasn't really any option, he had finally found his dream and he was going to follow it, he would follow it until the end of the world and then a bit further.

For so long, he had been listing in the water with no wind to fill his sails and now the wind was gusting; his sails billowing and filling and he was ready to set sail. He remembered those days of nothing, he had tried to fill them with books and drinking tea. They had been incredibly boring and his family always asked him what he planned to do with his life.

" _So, Charlie, any idea what you'll be doing tomorrow?" his mother had asked as they sat around the dinner table._

_Charlie coughed as a pea went down the wrong way at the sudden question. Once he had recovered—with no one offering to help—he said, "Well, I thought I might keep researching? I mean, I have a fascinating book to keep me occupied. I'll just keep reading that and, you know, maybe some inspiration will strike me."_

_His mother hummed but let it go and instead turned to his brother. "How is Auror training going dear?"_

_Charlie zoned out of the conversation then, it wasn't anything interesting to him. He had no desire to hear how his brother had succeeded at a duel or managed to apprehend a criminal in a training exercise. He let his mind drift as he wondered what he was going to do. Every time his mother asked what he would be the next day, he knew she was asking if he had finally decided on a path._

_The sad thing was, he never had. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, he had never found anything that he would be happy doing for the rest of his life. He knew that he didn't have to find that one thing straight off, but the wanted to, He didn't want to invest several years into something that would only cause him stress and never return any pleasure._

_So he would continue to read and hopefully he would find something that was exciting to him that he would be able to pursue with happiness._

"This is really it, isn't it?" Charlie asked quietly to the newt that was still with him. It nodded at him and he grinned. This was it, he had found what he had been looking for. He drew in a deep breath and then leapt out of the window he had been perched on and started walking. Behind him, his room was empty of all but the least important things and a note. The house was dark and was swallowed by the night as he moved forward.

He wouldn't be returning, there was nothing in that house for him. His mother was always more focused on his brother and said brother was always talking about Auror things that didn't interest Charlie in any shape or form. As he continued to walk he felt lighter, no longer would he have to endure the heavy expectations of his family to do well. This was a brand-new chapter in his life and Charlie Scamander was free.

He frowned as he thought that. Charlie wasn't a very good name for what he wanted to do. He wanted to study creatures of all types, and a name like Charlie just didn't fit. He glanced down at his friend who was on his shoulder and asked, "What do you reckon?"

The newt blinked steadily at him, as if the answer was obvious and Charlie was just too blind to see it. Charlie hit himself in the face as it hit him, "Of course! Why else would it be  _you_  who showed me this instead of a hippogriff? Newt! It's a perfect name!"

The newt nodded gravely, and Newt grinned. A new life, a new direction to follow and a new name. Just then, he passed through the Scamander residence wards and he felt the magic let him go. Pulling out the broom from the suitcase that held all his belongings with an extension charm, he mounted it and set off. Newt Scamander and his newt were ready for adventure and by golly were they going to find it.


	25. The Quill is Mightier than the Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition & Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
> Prompts:   
> Vowing to stop doing something  
> Write about an individual that gets injured on his/her job  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns  
> AU in the fact that there is no information on what Binns did before teaching at Hogwarts and I've made him be in the quill business-which may or may not exist, it does in this story.

Every Binns was involved in the quill business—whether they were making the quills, selling the quills or hunting the feathers that would turn into quills. The Binns name was famous for making the best quills, and the family was very proud of that fact. No Binns would ever consider changing careers and leaving the family business.

Cuthbert was focusing very hard on the job at hand. Quill making was a precise art, and he had not yet gotten to the point where he could do it in his sleep. His hands were littered with scars from all the times the knife had slipped. He was currently scraping off the membrane of several quills which he then would place in water to soak overnight. As he did that, he would remove the feathers that had been in the water before and move them to the hot sand where they would stay until they were ready to be cut. The ready feathers, he would remove and begin the process of cutting.

Everything would be easier if there was a spell for such things but unfortunately, the Binns name was built on their handcrafted quills and they would not stoop so low as to allow spell work to create something they prided themselves on being able to make without the help of magic. Cuthbert placed the last feather down on the tray that would carry it and its companions into the water and sat back with a sigh.

Quill making had been fun when he was a child and fascinating to see how a feather could become a writing implement but after doing for a few years, he started to tire of the routine and longed to escape. He had been in the family business since he was young, training and learning all about the quill business. Of course, he was always more interested in those who  _ used  _ the quills instead of those who  _ made _ them.

Groaning, Cuthbert started the shuffling process that would bring him around to cutting the feathers into usable quills. This was the part that he hated the most and the part that caused him the most pain. Even though he had been cutting quills since he was little, he still hadn’t gotten the hang off cutting the quill and removing the quick without cutting himself as well.

Still, he had a job to do and he would do it. Placing the new tray full of quills that had soaked and hardened in the hot sand at workstation, Cuthbert stretched and then picked up his knife. He would do it this time, he would get through all of the quills in front of him without slipping.

Cuthbert cursed as the blade slipped and cut into his finger instead of the quill it was supposed to be cutting. Blood spurted out and was quickly swiped away by the self-cleaning cloth Cuthbert kept on hand for situations such as this. He kept pressure on the wound for a few minutes and then checked the blood flow. It had stopped, and Cuthbert put aside the cloth and went back to work.

Making quills was all well and good, but it certainly wasn’t fun when he got injured with every second quill he made. Cuthbert cursed again as the blade slipped once more—straight into his already wounded finger. Sighing, he put the quill and knife down and picked up the cloth. His life was not interesting in the least—he had absorbed all the tales of quills and their users; Rowena Ravenclaw, Merlin, Nicholas Flamel, Adalbert Waffling, Artemisia Lufkin and even Beedle the Bard!

The history of those people, that those quills had been involved in,  _ that _ was what interested him. He didn’t care about making quills, he just wanted to know how they had been used, he wanted to know the history of each quill. He didn’t particularly like new quills, they had no history to them, no story to tell. Perhaps that’s what he would do, he would stop making quills and instead teach others about those who used quills. It was still sort of in the family business, so he wasn’t betraying the Binns name.

Cuthbert nodded once and vowed to himself that he would stop creating quills and instead would tell their stories. No longer would his hands gather more and more small cuts from the knife slipping. Just as soon as he had finished the latest batch of quills and told his father that he was leaving… The knife he had picked up again dug into his finger and he hissed, the sooner he got away from sharp objects that preferred him over what they were actually meant to be cutting, the better.


	26. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Category: Themed (Love and/or Love Lost)  
> Prompt: Red Lipstick  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns  
> Warnings: Blatant allusions to abuse.

 

She never liked it, never found a need for it, yet he still insisted. She had acquiesced, and he was happy. All her friends had noticed it, but they had assumed she was becoming more feminine and congratulated her on discovering her femininity. She didn't really understand why they thought it was something to be congratulated about—she had never had any desire to appear more feminine; instead, she preferred what was comfortable over what was fashionable.

She had been wearing it for quite a while now, and it made her feel very strange. She was not allowed to leave the house without it, and he made sure of that with a ward keyed into her signature and the colour red. Red had once been a rather nice colour to her, but now it was the worst colour. Red signified a prison. Red was the cell door that kept her trapped, and she could not break out.

She was not herself when she wore it, yet he seemed to think that she was at her best when she wore it. When they were in school, there had been no expectations except that of to love and be loved in return. Now, it seemed as though he could only love her when she wore the right shade of red on her lips. She hated it, but she loved him and it was a small enough concession for the one she loved.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn't even recognise the face that looked back at her. Gone were her comfortable clothes and practical hairstyle. She was the epitome of beauty, and it was wrong. She had never been beautiful in her life—except perhaps during the Yule Ball—her parents had always told her that brains won out over beauty. He didn't seem to believe that, and now she wasn't sure who was right.

Four years after graduating from school, she wanted to visit a new exhibition in a magical museum that showed the history of creatures. He didn't think much of that plan and instead told her that they would be attending a ball at the Ministry of Magic. That night, she dressed in the red dress he had chosen for her and applied the red lipstick that was her jailor. The ball was for the fourth year of peace after the Second Wizarding War; and she had no desire to drag those memories back into the light.

She had a plan; she would go to the ball then slip away after a few minutes. She had packed a small purse with an extension charm with a change of clothes and some extra money. She would be seeing the exhibition, and she would see the advances in wizard/creature relations. She would have a night of freedom away from the dreaded colour red. There would be no red dress after she had left the ball. There would  _definitely_  be no red lipstick. She would be herself again—even if it was for only one night, Hermione Granger would return to the world.


	27. The Small Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Theme: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
> Prompt: "You can't miss something you've never had."  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

Newt Scamander was a magizoologist—that was what he was most known for by people interested in creatures in the Wizarding World. He loved the creatures he sought out and learned all he could about them, dedicating his life to the study of magical creatures and teaching the world. He was determined that they would no longer be feared because they were misunderstood—Thestrals were not vicious and yet they were feared due to people only being able to see them after viewing death.

While he loved his work and wouldn't give it up for the world, there were times when he thought that maybe it was too much, too big. He saw the little things that others did; the differences they made in the world with their actions and all he had done was learn of creatures and spread that knowledge. He loved it but would it make a difference? A true difference?

Newt sighed and set down his cup of tea, it had grown cold as he sat in thought within his enlarged suitcase. The niffler that was burrowed in a pile of shiny objects poked its head out to see if what Newt had put down would be a good addition to its collection. It sniffed and examined the cup from afar before burrowing back into the pile—evidently not thinking much of the cup. Newt smiled at the creature's actions; that was why he studied them, so that he could observe something as pure as nature and take comfort in their never-changing ways.

"Well," Newt said, clapping his hands together, "back to work, I suppose."

Taking out his small notebook with accompanying self-inking quill, he made his way out to the garden and his friends. That was what they were; his friends. He didn't really like human company; it was loud and confusing and full of unseen pitfalls that were almost always unavoidable. Once his days at Hogwarts had finished and he had departed on his journey, he had discovered that he rather liked the solitude and quiet that came with nature.

His suitcase was his home, and it was the home of his friends. He had brought in the little hut that had been his while he lived on his mother's hippogriff farm and duplicated the land that surrounded it. Now, the suitcase was full of creatures that had agreed to go with him and allow him to tell their stories to the world. No longer was it just bare land that held only grass, trees and bushes. It was a paradise for all the creatures that joined him and he worked hard to make sure each creature had a habitat that suited them.

He was rather proud of that; it was a spell of his own creation and he had not yet taught anyone else. It allowed him to create a habitat suited to the creature he performed the spell on. As such, there were areas in his suitcase where the air was cold and filled with snow while next to it would be a desert with a conjured sun beating down. The magic was incredibly complex, and he had spent years poring over rune books, spell creation guides, even divination books about foretelling the weather.

Newt hummed as he walked along the winding path that made its way through his suitcase and took notes on the various creatures that he happened upon. The land was free in his suitcase, any creature could go anywhere—so long as they refrained from harming other creatures—and he sometimes had to use a point me spell to help him locate a specific creature when he needed to see them.

A rapping sound echoed down through the main house and out across the fields. Newt looked up from his notebook and sighed before pocketing it, saying goodbye to the Sphinx he had been talking to and making his way to the house and out from his suitcase. Anna was waiting for him and he grinned at her before cradling his arm after she saw fit to hit him with considerable force.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"That was for forgetting about the gala you were going to take me to! Whenever you go into your suitcase, it's like you forget all about the real world and all that you care about is that case and the creatures you keep in it. What is so important about them, Newt? How are they more important than me? Huh?

"I have waited and waited for you to wake up and realise that there are more important things to think about than what some creature does and why. What about me, Newt? What about the life I thought we could build together? All you want to do is play around in the life that you already have and there is no room for other people in that life! Only creatures! We are done, Newt Scamander."

"Anna! I-I-I I'm sorry, I just… There is so much to learn!"

"You're not a Ravenclaw, Newt. You're a Hufflepuff, you're supposed to care about people, not books and learning. You're supposed to care about  _me_." Anna was crying now and Newt went to hug her—comfort her—but she shrugged him off, "All I ever wanted from you was your love but I see now that you direct all your love to the creatures that fascinate you so.

"I would say that I'll miss you but you can't miss something you've never had. And I never had you, Newt, no matter how much I wanted to or how much you wanted to give me what I wanted. Goodbye, Newt, I wish you all the happiness in your pursuits."

Anna turned and walked away, leaving Newt standing and staring after her. He was sad to see her go but he could understand her reasons, he was a terrible romantic partner. Anna had been right when she said that Newt directed all his love to the creatures that he cared for, he didn't know how to do anything else. That was the way his mother had been, his brother directed his love towards his career as an Auror. All Scamanders had trouble splitting their attention from their passion.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Several years later, Newt Scamander found himself on American soil and chasing down a niffler with a muggle—or no-mag as they were called in America. He found himself working with an Auror, her sister and the muggle to relocate all the creatures that had escaped from his suitcase when it had managed to make its way into the muggle's hands.

After the whole adventure was over and the obliviating rain had started pouring down, Newt realised that he had forged a firm relationship with the Auror—Porpentina 'Tina' Goldstein. He realised that she had somehow managed to worm herself into the space in his heart that was previously reserved for his creature family.

Now, it seemed as though Tina had decided to take up permanent lodgings, and Newt found himself smiling. Perhaps he could love something other than the creatures he studied, and perhaps he could break the Scamander curse and divide his attention equally. That seemed to be an achievement far worthier than the book he was planning to write about all the creatures he had discovered on his journeys and where to find them all.

It may have been a small achievement to others in the world, but it was the most important thing he had ever achieved in his life. He doubted he would be able to achieve anything greater than finding a person he could love and actually loving them.


	28. Best and Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Category: Themed (Love or Love Lost)  
> Prompt: Best robes  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

The day was bright and sunny, just like the last time he had donned these robes. They were his best robes, kept pristine in charms and at the back of his wardrobe. He thought it rather ironic that his best robes were the robes that he wore for funerals. Fred would have loved that, but Fred hadn't lived long enough to see George need funeral robes; Fred was the reason George had insisted on having the best robes he could.

George examined himself in the mirror once more, ignoring the mirror as it said, "You look very dashing today."

He imagined he could hear Angelina saying almost the same thing—though with more innuendo—and he smiled softly at the thought. Angelina had been his guiding light after Fred died; the rest of his large family had tried, but they had all been suffering through their own sadness at the time. Angelina had been there for him; she was so strong after the war and had been right next to Harry as they rebuilt Hogwarts but always made time for George.

When George had been near catatonic from the death of his twin, she had fed him nutritious food to keep him alive and developed a system where he could tell her what he needed without saying anything. The DA coins were modified; and if he needed her while she was out, all he had to do was heat up the coin in her pocket and she would come. He loved her, he always would, even though she was now with Fred; and it didn't seem as though he would be seeing either of them for some time.

There was a knock on the door and George took in a deep breath before going to answer it; there was Harry. George hadn't wanted his brothers or his parents—he knew they would coddle him while Harry would simply smile sadly and stand by his side, offering silent comfort. And that was what he did. Harry smiled sadly at the remaining Weasley twin and offered his arm for side-along apparition. It was never a good idea to apparate when you were in a state of high emotions, after all.

The funeral was over and George stood next to the patch of ground that now held the body of his wife. Harry was standing under a tree a few paces away and letting George have these last few moments. He heaved out a shaky breath as his fingers played across the headstone, tracing the letters that were engraved across it.  _Here lies Angelina Weasley, 25 October 1977 – 15 September 2008, Beloved Wife, Daughter and Friend._

George bowed his head and remembered Angelina as she had been, full of life and always teasing him. Always there for him when he had needed her, always ready to distract him from the dark thoughts that crept up but also willing to let him be alone when he needed it. He stood up and looked over at the headstone nearest to where he stood.

Fred's headstone was as pristine as it had been when it had been placed in the ground ten years ago. He smiled and said, "You take care of her, Forge."

He turned away and walked over to where Harry was waiting, taking the offered arm and looking back over the graveyard before it disappeared in a whirl and was replaced by his living room. "Are you going to be okay, George?"

George nodded and Harry accepted the answer without trying to dig deeper. With a comforting hug, Harry left George alone to his thoughts. George smoothed down his robes and then almost immediately stripped them off his body. He had no desire to wear them any longer than he had to. He left them in a pile and went to have a shower.

When he returned, he glanced at the heap and sighed. Picking them up he carefully placed them in the specially charmed bag and hung them in their rightful place-the very back of his wardrobe. With that, his best robes were shoved out of sight and forgotten about, only to be taken out when he had to attend another funeral. The best robes, used for the worst of occasions.


	29. Snitch and Sun (not a good combination)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Sunglasses  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

The light blinded him, and he quickly tried to both block the sun and keep track of the small golden ball that had been in front of him just moments before. His efforts were in vain however, and the snitch had vanished. Harry groaned and started looking for the snitch all over again. It was no use—the sunlight reflected off his glasses and he couldn't make out much detail of things far away, especially not a little golden ball. Sighing in defeat, Harry guided his broomstick to the ground where Hermione and Ron were waiting for him.

Hermione rose her wand and said the incantation that would bring the snitch back, inert once more. They all squinted into the sky to try and find the snitch as it flew back and managed to see it just before it almost smacked Hermione in the face, she was only saved by the arm she held over her eyes for shade.

"Ugh, I wish I'd thought to bring some sunglasses!" exclaimed Hermione as she recovered from a small ball hurtling into her hand.

Ron was confused, "What are sunglasses?"

"They're glasses with polarised lenses that help block out the sun's rays. They make it easier to see in bright sunlight and they also protect your eyes from harmful effects of the sun."

"Huh," was Ron's eloquent response.

Harry grinned at them. "Come on, let's go inside. We don't have sunglasses and I can't see a thing with the light blinding me every few seconds. I guess Oliver will just have to deal with a rusty me until I can practice and not get blinded."

They went inside, Ron eagerly thinking of the food his mother would be making soon, Harry thinking over tactics for playing Quidditch on sunny days and Hermione wondering if she could slip away to muggle London and get a pair of sunglasses. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of packing them when she had left for the Burrow, but she hadn't and she regretted that now.

* * *

It was the first practice of the year and, of course, the sun was beating down on the team and Harry couldn't see a thing. He sighed as he mounted his broom, he would just have to do his best to squint through the light and look for the golden ball that was sure to be reflecting the sun's rays. Unfortunately, squinting through light was extremely difficult when you had mini reflectors on your face, and Harry couldn't find the snitch at all.

He explained the situation with Oliver and Oliver just offered, "They put up a sun shield on the match day but not on practice days, just do what you can."

That didn't help Harry at all. If he was only going to be able to see the snitch on match days, how was he supposed to practice catching the golden ball beforehand? Looking around the pitch in an effort to find a starting point to resume looking for the snitch he saw Hermione waving at him from the stands.

Confused, he made his way over there and she immediately stole the glasses from his face, "Hey!"

"I'll give them back, don't worry," Hermione fiddled around and then presented the glasses back to him.

When he put them on again, the world darkened and he could see without squinting. "Woah, what did you do?"

Hermione huffed. "I went to muggle London and got some clip-on sunglasses. They attach to your glasses so you don't have to wear two pairs of glasses at the same time. You can also get sunglasses that have your prescription so you don't have to worry about losing the attachable ones. Now go out there and find the snitch."

Harry grinned and hugged Hermione tightly. "Thanks Hermione. You're the best!"


	30. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Theme: A character from your house (Hufflepuff)  
> Prompt: Toy broom  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

Her niece was laughing happily as she zoomed about on the little toy broom Amelia had brought her from Susan's old home. Her brothers were dead. They had been killed by Death Eaters a few years ago, and she had been granted custody of Susan. After everything that had happened, the war and Voldemort, Amelia would never abandon her family and she would make sure Susan was always happy and protected.

She wondered how Harry Potter was doing, everyone in the Wizarding World hailed him as their saviour but Amelia simply wondered how the young boy was doing. She wondered if he was being looked after, Albus Dumbledore said that he was in the best place possible but Amelia still wondered. Susan ran up to her and she knelt down to give her niece a hug.

"Did you see me, Auntie? Did you see me fly?" the young girl enthused.

"I did, you were very good. You must be a natural."

"Yep!"

"Come on," Amelia said, standing up and holding out her hand for the five-year-old to take.

"Let's go get some lunch, hey?"

The broom was clutched tightly as the two walked inside, it was the one thing left from Susan's life with her parents. Everything else had been destroyed by the Death Eaters that had tortured and killed her mother and father. Amelia didn't try to remove the broom from her niece's possession, Merlin knew she wouldn't want to part from something that reminded her of happy times with her family.

Amelia had her family album, photos taken throughout their lives as young witch and wizards. She had pictures from when they were just a few weeks old to when they were into their twenties. That was when their parents had died and a few years after that, both her brothers had also died. Occasionally Amelia would let Susan peruse the pictures and see the faces of her father and uncle, with the odd photo of her mother smiling and having fun with her father.

They were in the kitchen now and Amelia set to making sandwiches for the both of them. Susan hugged her broom and asked quietly, "May I see the pictures after lunch, please?"

"Of course, sweetie," Amelia smiled softly, she could do with seeing the happiness of her brothers again. The sandwiches were gobbled up at super speed once Susan knew she would be able to see the photos and Amelia humoured her, eating her sandwich at equal speed.

The plate was presented proudly once it had been cleared of all but crumbs and was swiftly taken to the sink and set to clean itself as Amelia pulled the photo album from its place on the bookshelf. Together, they sat down on the couch and began the process of flicking through the many photos.

There were her brothers in their Ravenclaw blue on a Hogsmeade weekend where they had met up with the rest of the Bones family. There was Amelia herself in Hufflepuff yellow, testing the robes still fit her before her second year. There was Fabian and Claire—Susan's parents—smiling happily and wandering down a snowy street.

Graduation day was flicked past after gazing at all the happy faces in all the different House colours, with Amelia surrounded by a sea of yellow and her two brothers who had graduated a few years before her. Susan's tiny face appeared and they were into the many pictures of Fabian, Claire and Susan. They had been so happy together and Amelia missed her family immensely, she was just glad Susan had survived.

Susan snuggled into her little broom as the picture of her first time on it came up. She had been terribly wobbly at first and only managed to gather enough courage to continue due to Fabian's help and encouragement. Amelia hugged her tighter and they continued flipping through until they reached the day at the park that was followed a few days later by the brutal murder of Fabian, Claire and Edgar.

With a sigh, Amelia closed the album and said, "You'll see them again. They're here right now, watching over us, we just haven't been able to see them."

"You really think so?"

"I really do. I think your father would be very proud of how good you are at riding a broom, don't you think so?"

Susan nodded in an affirmative. "I'm going to get even better, I want them to always be proud of me!"

"And they will, no matter what you do." Amelia kissed her niece on the forehead and they continued to sit there, thinking back on their family and content with the family they had now.


	31. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Theme: A character from your house (Hufflepuff)  
> Prompt: Lost within Hogwarts  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

Professor Sprout was always known as one of the most cheerful teachers at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was a known fact that her door and arms were always open to any student from any House if they needed her. She made it a part of her routine to patrol the corridors of Hogwarts during the first few days of a new school year in case any of the first years managed to get lost.

There were always a few of them that couldn't figure out the moving stairs, the doors that pretended to be walls or the walls that pretended to be doors. It wasn't all muggle-born students either; she had found quite a few purebloods that were completely lost within the walls of Hogwarts. She found it rather amusing how they tried to maintain their cool façade while being overwhelmed with relief that they wouldn't be lost in the corridors of Hogwarts for the rest of eternity.

It was nearing that time again; the sorting ceremony and welcome feast were fast descending upon them. All of the Professors were frantically sorting out their class schedule for the coming year. Thirty new students should be arriving in a few days, thirty students who all had the same chance to get lost within Hogwarts and be found by the cheerful Head of Hufflepuff House.

Even as a prefect of Hufflepuff during her school years, Pomona had always patrolled the corridors for lost students. She felt that it was her duty to help the young wizards and witches that came to learn magic also learn how to navigate the confusing layout of Hogwarts Castle. She and her fellow Hufflepuff prefect had tried to convince the prefects of Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin to do the same but they had failed in creating an actual schedule for patrolling purely to find lost students.

So, she and Miles had done it by themselves and had inevitably made friends with those they had directed back onto the right path. It had been a fantastic way to make more friends and learn more about those they helped. Although friendship was now off the table due to Pomona being a professor and the impossibility of a student and professor being true friends—she still enjoyed learning about those she helped.

They often sought her out a few days after their rescue and she would welcome them with a comforting drink and some chocolate. They would then talk about how the young student was finding the castle and classes so far, how they were dealing with being away from their parents for such an elongated amount of time. When the student left, she made sure to let them know that they were welcome back at any time and gave them a map of Hogwarts in case they should get lost again.

She had gotten the idea from the Marauders and their rumoured map of the corridors that showed where everyone was in the castle. Her version only showed the holders location and the surrounding rooms and halls. It was an effective tool for finding ways back to people and away from the deserted side passages that lost children often found themselves in.

Now she would have thirty new children to aid and get to know. It was the best part of her year; she loved getting to know the students they taught more personally. It helped her with knowing which students needed more personalised attention and which students would need to learn a subject differently than the others. She encouraged the other professors to do it with their students but just like with the prefects when she had been young; none of them had the inclination or time to do so. Still, at least Pomona knew she would always be there for those lost within Hogwarts.


	32. It Didn't Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)  
> Prompt: Write about someone pretending to be more powerful than they are.

 

It didn't matter how much power he actually had, or how many spells he actually knew. So long as he knew one spell, above all others, no one was going to think him a fraud. They would continue to sigh over him—their jealous partners off to the side—and keep awarding him 'Most Dazzling Smile' as he continued to smile his way through life. Others may have to work to feed themselves and any dependants, and others still may have dreams they worked their whole lives to achieve, he was different.

Gilderoy Lockhart had been blessed with dashingly good looks and had learned how to charm himself out of any situation that was going awry. He learned how to gain the friendship of others more famous than he and used their fame to increase his own. He was a storyteller and he told marvellous tales full of adventure after completely obliviating the very same tale from the mind of the one who had gone through the experience. There was no chance that they would remember and even if they did, they probably wouldn't care—living in hovels and drowning in firewhisky seemed to be all they wished to achieve in life.

Not him. No, Gilderoy Lockhart had had a taste of living in hovels and being surrounded by strong liquor and he had sworn to never again live like that. He had built up connections when he had attended Hogwarts, had ordered the house elves to clean and mend his clothes to the highest standard and had stumbled across his ticket to glory. The obliviate spell—if used by capable hands—was able to erase, modify and replace any memory of any person so long as that person did not have strong mental shields. Once he had discovered this fact, the whole world opened up for Gilderoy and he worked hard to become a master of the spell.

He was understandably proud of this accomplishment; it was, after all, the only accomplishment he could lay claim to that was his own. Of course, no one knew that he was so well versed in the use of the spell apart from those he used it on and they always forgot.

It didn't matter how much power he actually had—he was far less powerful than others believed. Nor did it matter how many spells he actually knew—he most certainly didn't know any spells to deal with a banshee off the top of his head. So long as he knew one spell, no one was going to think anything of him except that which he wanted them to think.

Yes, Gilderoy Lockhart would forever be the dashing and adventurous author that never backed down from a challenge. He would never fail and he would never fall. He would continue to rise in fame and status; why, he'd even been invited to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts! He would certainly accept that post, especially as Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived—was currently attending that very school!


	33. The Boggart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Boggart  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

If there was ever a strange and confusing creature in the world of the strange and confusing, that creature would be a boggart with its lurking in shadows and small spaces, waiting for a victim to come by that it could scare before moving on. No witch or wizard had ever quite figured out what a boggart's purpose or drive was, not even the great Newt Scamander—notable magizoologist. It wasn't possible to ask a boggart what it wanted as all it did was delve into your mind and steal the image of that which you feared the most.

For some, that was a creature that had access to their minds, for others it might be a dark secret they kept hidden away. It was rumoured that for Harry Potter—Vanquisher of Voldemort—it was fear itself. There was only way to deal with a boggart and that was to turn your fear into something humorous. A difficult task for most people and an even harder one when your greatest fear is bearing down upon you. It was either that or run away screaming and hoping the boggart doesn't decide to follow you as you run.

Boggarts are not necessarily harmful, unless seeing your worst fear come to life right before your eyes is going to cause physical trauma. The boggart causes harm psychologically and those affected can remain so for the rest of their lives. It also means that if you are confronted with a boggart during a time when enemies are near—those enemies are made aware of what you fear the most. As such, boggarts are often used in interrogations and torture.

This use of boggarts was first introduced by Mafalda Higgens—a hedgewitch who had minimal power and wished to leave her mark on the Wizarding World. She had not been planning on using a boggart at first but had encountered one when walking home one day and captured it after realising the potential of the creature. A boggart helped many of Gellert Grindelwald's followers confess to their crimes and even reveal what they knew about the Dark Lord's plans.

The practice has since been disbanded, along with the use of dementors as guards of Azkaban prison. These changes were made by the Head of Creature Relations department—Hermione Weasley—accompanying her ongoing campaign of equal rights for all creatures from house elves to centaurs.

Boggarts are now on the protected species list, and hunters are fined a total of one hundred galleons per boggart they have in their possession. Consequently, a black market for boggarts has started forming; and many organisations are willing to pay a considerable amount to ensure a safe delivery of such an effective interrogation tool.

Aurors and the special taskforce of Creature Relations field agents are always on the lookout for shady dealings of boggarts and other creatures. It is unknown how boggarts breed, and is therefore unknown how wizard-kind can ensure their continued existence. At the current moment in time—there is an estimated seventy boggarts in existence.

Following in my brother's footsteps, I intend on capturing their existence in photos.

_Dennis Creevey, Daily Prophet_


	34. Athena the Auror Crup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Theme: Pet  
> Prompt: Ministry of Magic  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns  
> Story is an AU

"You do realise you're not allowed to bring this thing in to work with you, don't you Finnigan?"

Finnigan glared at the speaker. "We all know you would complain very loudly and annoyingly all day if I  _didn't_  bring her."

Malfoy didn't have a response to that; and even if he did, he was far too busy cuddling the tiny Crup he had stolen from Finnigan's hands the moment the other man had stepped into the office.

"Oi! Malfoy, Finnigan! What happened to me saying you shouldn't bring Athena in anymore?" came a yell from the Head Auror's office across the hall from them.

" _Shouldn't_  doesn't mean  _can't_ , Potter. Besides, you bring Hermes in, why can't we have Athena?" Malfoy retorted.

"One, you can't accurately and effectively communicate with Athena while I can actually talk to Hermes and understand what he says. Two, Athena is a pet whereas Hermes is—for all intents and purposes—my field partner. Three, Crups are notorious for being overexcitable, and we have seen evidence of that in the form of the dish incident. Four, Crups are also notorious for eating anything they lay their eyes on, such as important paperwork that you two don't want to do. Five—"

"Okay! We get it, Potter. There's no need to continue down your itemised list of reasons we shouldn't bring Athena into the office. Honestly, sometimes you're as bad as Granger."

"What can I say, living with someone tends to make them rub off on you. And is that a bad thing, Finnigan? I distinctly remember you two being very glad of her itemised lists last week when she noticed the discrepancy that meant we could save your ungrateful hides."

Malfoy and Finnigan looked at each other. "He's got a point," Finnigan said with a little reluctance.

Malfoy glared. "Maybe," he mumbled more reluctantly than Finnigan.

"Glad you agree," Potter said from their office doorway. "Now, either train Athena to work with you and the Corps or find a Crupsitter and keep her out of the Ministry." Potter walked away, presumably going to see the Head of the DMLE—who also happened to be his housemate, Hermione Granger—for a meeting full of itemised lists, rumours and speculation that would eventually turn into Auror missions.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

A few months later the Auror office was once again greeted with the sight of the small Crup that was devoted to the two wizards that looked after her. Potter groaned as he saw the wagging forked tail enter Malfoy and Finnigan's office. "I thought I told you to get a Crupsitter," he said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

Malfoy grinned at him, "Actually you told us to get a Crupsitter  _or_  train Athena to be an Auror Crup."

"Please tell me you didn't…"

"Oh, we did," Finnigan smirked.

Potter looked at the three of them, examining them as if to assess the validity of their claim and how well the two idiots could work alongside the small Crup. He noticed that Athena was sitting right next to a small pile of—to her—delicious food consisting of paper and other such inedible objects that she would eat anyway, and not even glancing at it. "Fine, but make sure you fill in the proper paperwork with Granger."

With that, he turned and walked into his own office across the hall, closed the door and the blinds on the small window before sitting heavily at his desk. Whereupon he placed his head down firmly several times before resting it on the desk and wondering what his life was coming to. Hermes slithered out of his sun charmed pillow and wound himself around Potter's neck, hissing soothing words.

Finnigan and Malfoy grinned at one another and proceeded to congratulate themselves heartily on a job well done. Well, almost done. For when they turned back to Athena, there was a small slip of paper escaping her mouth that she had evidently just been eating while they weren't looking. They sighed as one and started the arduous task of trying to convince Athena that she really didn't need to eat that piece of paper, and it would be great if she could spit it out.


	35. John Markle and the Strange Rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Theme: Pet  
> Prompt: Platform 9 and three quarters  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

In the mad rush of getting to Platform 9 ¾ and then getting onto the Hogwarts Express without missing the train and still having time for goodbyes, it was easy for things to get misplaced or forgotten about. In the crush of so many witches and wizards that wanted to send their baby's off with a smile and a hug, it was easy for things to disappear into the crowd and be abandoned. The platform was always full of noise and the screeching of disgruntled owls that were forced to be awake during the day.

Everyone knew to watch their step when on the platform; you never knew when a toad might have gotten away from its owner and gone for a stroll, after all. The cats would have great fun climbing around the train and winding through the many human legs surrounding them. Occasionally a cat would try and grab a toad, but the platform attendants were always watching out for the hungry cats and herded them back towards their carer.

One such attendant—John Markle—rose an eyebrow when he spotted a rat scurrying across the platform and avoiding the many dangers that presented themselves. It wasn't often he saw a creature other than an owl, cat or toad during the time the Hogwarts Express was stopped at his platform. Students weren't allowed any other animal and parents normally didn't bring their own animals with them while they were saying goodbye to their children.

John watched as the rat headed directly towards the barrier between Platform 9 ¾ and Kings Cross Station only to squeal as he was scooped up by a woman with flaming red hair who immediately started scolding the rat. "Scabbers! There you are! Honestly, what do you think you're doing? Running away like this, Ron is going to have a fit, and the train's about to leave!"

The woman hurried off, keeping a firm grip on the rat as it desperately tried to wriggle out and run away again. John watched on, amused if not a little confused. Why was a rat going to Hogwarts with a student? He assumed that was what was happening, that Ron was a student who had lost his rat that he shouldn't have in the first place. At least, not on the Hogwarts Express that was going to Hogwarts where students were only allowed an owl, cat or toad. There were no rats on that list and any animals that were not the three allowed were sent back to the student's home.

So why bother bringing a rat? Why hurry to give it back to whoever this Ron person was when it would just be sent back to his mother as soon as he arrived at Hogwarts? John shook his head in wonder at the silliness of some people. It was pointless trying to understand why they did what they did but that didn't stop him from trying. This was one of the most interesting times to be on shift at Platform 9 ¾, what with all the people rushing about and providing him with great entertainment.

A squeal caught John's attention and he looked over just in time to see the rat—Scabbers—fly backwards through the air into the very unimpressed hands of the woman who had tracked him down before. No, John most definitely didn't understand the people that came to the platform every year, but they were certainly very interesting to watch. He wondered if he'd see the rat again next year, or if the family would have realised by then that rats weren't allowed.

He shrugged; it wasn't his problem. Just then, he spotted a cat on the prowl who was definitely stalking a toad.  _Time to get back to work then_ , he thought as he pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on and hurried over to the hungry cat. He had never lost a toad in all his years of service in the railway; there was no way he was losing one today, even if he was still confused about the whole rat business.


	36. First Year Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Anxiety  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

Poppy Pomfrey was known for her fierce protectiveness of those under her care, especially when they were in the Hospital Wing. The first few weeks of school term were the busiest for her as that was when all the First Years found themselves in her office for some calming draughts, soothing hot chocolate and comforting words. Every student was different, and she did her best to soothe their worries.

Some—notably Purebloods that had familial expectations—were anxious about the House they had been sorted into. They worried what their family would think, if they would wind up being the same as their parents, if other students might be reporting their progress to those still at home. There were other students who just missed their home and family and didn't know if they would be able to survive the following term until the holidays arrived. Muggle-borns worried about living and studying in a brand new world that—until recently—had only existed in fantasy.

After the first week, the flow of anxious First Years tapered off, and the Infirmary was quiet once more. Poppy usually felt strangely bereft at this point. After having student after student come to see her every day, the absence of those students was not an altogether pleasant feeling. Still, there was always next year's batch of fearful new students to both look forward to and calm.

Besides, Quidditch season would start soon enough, and that generally meant she would get some company.


	37. Friendly Duels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Duelling  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

Their rivalry was the stuff of legends; they were so entwined by their animosity that they could never be separated. Like Merlin and Morgana, Tesla and Edison, Shaggy and Scooby; one did not exist without the other. They hated each other yet they loved the hate and could not imagine life without it. This was the reason they did not allow the other to die—even when the opportunity presented itself.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had not stopped their fervent duelling—verbal or otherwise—since the war had ended. They did not know how, nor did they particularly want to. Their friends tried to urge them to forgive one another; one pair for prestige and the other for a new beginning. What the friends did not know however, is that the two had already forgiven each other and were both depending on the normalcy the other represented with their duels.

It had started on their first day of school, before that in some people’s eyes. Draco had been a young boy who had been raised in a certain way, and Harry had also been a young boy but had been raised differently. These two ways of life were different and conflicted with the other. Hence, those who knew the ways, conflicted with those who knew another way.

If, at some point, Draco had been asked if he liked Harry Potter, he would have said yes. He did like Harry Potter; he wanted to be Harry Potter’s friend and was certain that his father would manage to bring Harry Potter to him and they would be friends. That didn’t happen, however, and Draco was forced to try and make friends with Harry Potter by himself. He had never had to make a friend before—his father chose all of his friends for him.

Harry would have quite easily become friends with Draco Malfoy, if not for the fact that the boy had managed to insult the two people that showed Harry kindness first in this new world. Hagrid—the half-giant that had made him a birthday cake and introduced Harry to magic—was insulted and called an oaf. Ron Weasley—the boy who sat with Harry on the train and tried to make his rat yellow—was insulted for his name and financial situation.

As Harry was used to bullies due to his cousin Dudley, he did not particularly want to be friends with someone who was quite clearly a bully, or well on their way to becoming one. And so their rivalry continued and it never stopped. As Harry went about his business in the Ministry of Magic as an Auror and Draco attended Wizengamot meetings, they would pass each other in the halls and always manage to insult the other, even if they only saw each other for a second.

It annoyed the other employees at the Ministry, but the one time they had tried to stop it by placing wards that stopped the two communicating, the two men had started to break down. As they were both rather important members of the Ministry, this caused some alarm, and the Minister passed a local decree that no one should try and stop Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter from fighting unless wands were raised and harmful spells cast.

The week after this disastrous attempt at stopping the two from fighting saw an increase to that fighting and spats often occurred. No wands were brought out, nor were any spells cast, so the Ministry employees let them continue and instead quickly hurried off to where they were meant to be.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Honestly Harry, you are not setting a good example! People look to you for guidance and all they see is you continuing your school feud with Malfoy instead of the acceptance that you should show towards him. You saved his life!”

“Yeah, and?” Harry asked Hermione, tired of the conversation already.

“And?” the bushy-haired witch shrieked. “And you should know by now that Malfoy’s a good person and not about to try and get revenge on you for Voldemort!”

“I do know that! Just because I fight with him, doesn’t mean that I think he’s going to go all Death Eater on me!”

“Then why are you still fighting with him?”

Harry shrugged. “I can?”

“Ugh!” Hermione stomped her foot and swept out of the room, annoyed at Harry’s lack of care about his continued verbal spars with Malfoy. Harry just grinned to himself, another victory for him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Drakey, don’t you think you should stop arguing with Potter and start treating him as a saviour like everyone else?”

Draco glared at Pansy. “No.”

“But Draco,” Pansy draped herself over her friend as she whined, “if you don’t play nice with Potter, you’ll never amount to anything. No one wants to promote the rival of Harry Potter.”

“Does it look like I care, Pans?”

She pouted and turned to look at their other friend in the room. “Blaise, help me make Draco see the light?”

“Since when have we wanted to see the light?” Blaise asked, “We were raised in darkness and taught to ignore the light when it came calling.”

“That was ages ago! The war is over, and we’d be in high standing if it wasn’t for stubborn Draco Malfoy here.”

“If it bothers you that much, Pansy, why don’t you split all ties with me and go find a nice, light husband?”

Blaise laughed from his position where he was leaning against the wall, “You know she’ll never leave, Draco. She’s decided we belong to her and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Exactly.” Pansy grinned.

Draco groaned; he needed to find Potter and yell at him for allowing this sort of situation to occur. Even if it wasn’t actually Potter’s fault and the Vanquisher of Voldemort couldn’t actually be blamed for his friends’ antics, Draco was going to blame him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Oi, Potter!”

Harry turned around and grinned when he saw Malfoy, just the Slytherin he wanted to see. “Yeah, Malfoy?”

“Why is it that my friends have suddenly decided they love you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. Perhaps the same reason that my friends have decided they love _you_?”

Draco snarled and pulled out his wand, the annoyance at his friends’ persistence boiling up inside of him too much for him to handle. Harry grinned at the sight and pulled out his own wand, quickly casting a protective barrier around the two of them so no well-meaning Ministry employees could stop their duel.

“ _Reducto_!” Draco yelled.

“ _Expulsio_!” Harry replied.

Each of them ducked out of the way of incoming spells and continued to throw and dodge as they let out their frustrations at the world on each other. The air inside the barrier lit up with multiple spell lights and the crowd that had gathered were amazed and frightened at the wide range of spells known by the two combatants.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, stood to the side and groaned, covering his face with his palms. This was not what he wanted to deal with today; he could deal with the verbal spats Malfoy and Potter had but a full on duel was not allowed and most certainly not allowed in the Ministry! Unfortunately, with the rate the spells were flying around, he wouldn’t be able to bring down the barrier that separated the Slytherin and Gryffindor from the rest of the world without those spells flying out and hitting innocent bystanders.

Inside the barrier, the two men were grinning as they continued hurling spells and insults at the other. This was what they had both needed, to vent about the pressures they were feeling from the world and their friends to someone that vented right back and didn’t try to fix everything. The duelling exhausted them and filled them with adrenaline that they could use and remember to get them through until the next time they needed to vent.

The unspoken agreement and support found in a bitter rival was what kept them going in this new world they didn’t know. While everything else changed around them, they knew that this would stay the same, that it would remain as it was from school days and into their adulthood. Their rivalry was a stable point they could cling to, and that would never change.


	38. Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Theme: Goodbye  
> Prompt: Pensieve  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns  
> Note: AU, Ginny died during the Battle of Hogwarts.

 

At complete odds to what it normally was, the Burrow was silent and still. There was no joyful laughter as siblings interacted with one another, no loving scolding from the matriarch as her children stole bits of food she was preparing, no excitable wizard in the shed nearby exclaiming over yet another ingenious invention of the muggles. The house was in mourning, two of its members were now gone, and two more had been injured irrevocably.

Two honorary Weasleys stayed in the house with the rest of the family and tried their best to help but they were also suffering from loss. Although the war was now over, and the world was at peace, it was not a peace this family knew what to do with. One half a joking pair was gone; a single joker was often buried by the other cards in the deck and seldom seen—such was the fate of the joker George Weasley.

A princess is looked after her entire life and sheltered from the world outside until she bravely breaks away from her protectors and experiences the dangers for herself. A tale that generally ends in the princess returning home safe, with a beau standing next to her after he had protected her during her adventures. Such happiness was not to be found in this tale, there was no returning princess and the beau sunk deep into depression after finding out he had failed in his duty.

He still remembered her, thought fondly of her fiery nature and even more fiery red hair that flowed behind her as she ran towards him, smiling. He had tried to protect her; ever since she had arrived at the school of learning and held under a dark spell, he had kept an eye on her. It was for his friend at first—the brother of this fair princess—but eventually he realised that he felt more than friendship for the female Weasley protected by her many brothers and himself.

The memories flowed through his mind, too fast for him to catch them all. He saw her smile—he always thought she had the most beautiful smile—he saw her red hair and heard her laugh. He wanted to see more, to be able to watch these scenes of memory replay before him so that he could pretend—just for a moment—that she was still there with him. He poured his memories into the solid basin in front of him and plunged in, ready to see his love as she once was.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

_Harry quietly sat down next to Ginny Weasley the day after he had ventured into the Chamber of Secrets and fought the memory of Tom Riddle. She looked over at him and then back down to where she was fiddling with her nails. Harry said nothing, just sat there and looked out over the grounds of Hogwarts._

" _I'm sorry," Ginny said eventually._

_Harry looked at her in surprise, "Sorry?"_

" _For being so stupid and trusting a diary that was talking back to me, even after Dad drilled into me that I shouldn't trust anything if I couldn't see where it kept its brain."_

" _You don't need to be sorry, Ginny. Riddle was hypnotic, it would have been very hard to break his hold, even for an accomplished witch or wizard. It's only your first year at Hogwarts and the school is supposed to be safe, how could you know that you held a dark object?"_

_Ginny sighed and stopped picking at her nails, "I suppose."_

" _Well, you may suppose but I know," he grinned at her and she grinned back hesitantly. "Come on, we should go stop Ron from trying to eat all the food on the Gryffindor table."_

_Ginny giggled and let him pull her up and they walked towards the Great Hall together. She wasn't healed but she was on her way to putting the possession behind her._

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

_Fifth year was hard for him, what with the Ministry declaring he and Dumbledore insane, the nightmares about Voldemort and his snake, Umbridge coming to school and giving him detentions almost every night and being banned from playing Quidditch. He even had to teach others Defence Against the Dark Arts due to Umbridge not teaching them any spells and only allowing them to read theory._

_The secret lessons of Dumbledore's Army were probably the best bit about his fifth year, well, until Fred and George decided to go out with a bang and escape Hogwarts while throwing fireworks left, right and centre. That was amazing. The day after that however, he noticed how withdrawn Ginny had become without the distraction of her prankster elder brothers._

" _Want to talk about it?" he asked her when they both ended up being in the Gryffindor Common Room late one night while everyone else was asleep. Ginny didn't reply, instead continuing to stare into the fire crackling merrily. Harry nodded to himself and gently took a hold of the closest of Ginny's hands, "I'm here, if you need me."_

" _You wouldn't understand," she whispered._

" _Possibly, but at least you'd be able to tell someone. And, who knows, maybe I'll understand more than you think. You're not alone, Ginny."_

" _It feels like it, Fred and George have gone and everyone else is busy with their own problems or trying to finish school work. I don't want to bother anyone, but I just feel so cut off from everyone and it's like I'm back in first year with Tom whispering in my head!"_

_Harry pulled her into a full hug, "Hey, it's okay. You're not alone, bother me all you like, and I'll help you as much as I can."_

" _Thanks, Harry."_

" _No problem."_

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

_He didn't realise at first what the monster in his chest was so aggravated about. Then he found himself comforting Ginny after she had had a bad fight with Dean Thomas and realised the flowery scent he had smelled from the amortentia potion in Slughorn's class was Ginny's perfume. His chest monster rumbled contentedly as he held Ginny in his arms, letting her know that he was and always would be there for her._

_That was when he figured out he_ liked  _Ginny, more than as a sister. He wanted to be where Dean was, and he was sure that he would better at not fighting than he was. Dean didn't know how much Ginny was worth and Harry wished that he had enough courage to tell Ginny how he felt about her. But she was dating Dean and was also Ron's little sister. Harry wasn't sure how Ron would feel about his best mate dating his sister._

_There wasn't enough courage in the world at that moment for Harry to tell Ginny how he felt about her. That would remain his secret until she was ready to accept him, and he thought Ron wouldn't try to kill him. Hopefully, that would be soon._

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

" _I'm going." The statement was firm, but Harry was determined not to let Ginny out of the Room of Requirement. She was safe here and there were Death Eaters all over Hogwarts right now. He wanted her to stay with the young students and keep them calm whilst also staying safe._

_Ron was also adamant that Ginny stay behind and would not hear any of her reasons that she should go, not that Harry was any better at acknowledging those reasons. All he cared about were the reasons that Ginny_ shouldn't  _go. He had sworn that he would protect her, and he would do that. It was a battle of reasons that were all genuine reasons on both sides. Eventually, Harry had to go out into the castle and he hoped Ginny would stay behind._

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Harry gasped as he came out of the pensieve, Ginny's determined face still at the forefront of his mind. She hadn't deserved the ending Bellatrix Lestrange had delivered to her, if she had just listened to him and stayed in the Room of Requirement, she would probably still be around. Molly was distraught, her only daughter had been killed in front of her eyes and she had been too late to save her—though she had managed to bring down Bellatrix afterwards.

Life was not kind and it had taken so much away from him. His parents had been taken when he was barely one; Sirius when he was fifteen and only just getting to know his godfather; Remus, Tonks, Ginny, Fred and so many others had fallen during the Battle of Hogwarts. The losses had taken their toll on him and he did not often find joy. But he knew Ginny would want him to stay with her family and his surrogate family, he wasn't completely alone after all.

It was funny; he had once been the one who had helped Ginny see that she wasn't alone. Now it was the other way around, Ginny's memory was telling him that it was okay, he wasn't alone and that he needed to stay. She wouldn't listen to any reasons he tried to give for him leaving the Burrow and he found he couldn't ignore the reasons she gave him to stay at the Weasley home. So he would stay, until such a time where they all figured out how to live in this world without those that had left.

Smiling softly, Harry stroked the cool stone of the pensieve in front of him. He would always be able to see Ginny in his memories, but it was time to say goodbye to her and try to move on. Living in the past never helped anyone, this was the last time he would use the pensieve to see her, he would always remember her, but he didn't need to see her so clearly again. He could see her in her brothers, in her mother and father; she wasn't gone, not completely.

"Goodbye, Ginny." Harry carefully put away the pensieve and went downstairs, turning slightly when he thought he heard something but then dismissed it as his imagination.

" _Goodbye, Harry_."


	39. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Theme: Goodbye  
> Prompt: Proof  
> Beta: Dark Angel of Sorrow Returns

 

_~Meet me at midnight, Room of Requirement~_

Harry fiddled with the slip of parchment he had found in his potions textbook, wondering what he would do about it. He didn't know if he trusted the person who had slipped the note in without him noticing; but on the other hand, what if the person was trying to help him? He needed as much help as he could get; Ron and Hermione weren't much help at the moment seeing as they kept trying to get him to stop following Malfoy.

It was ten o'clock, and he still hadn't decided; the curtains around his bed were drawn and he knew the others in his dorm room were asleep. He hadn't told Ron or Hermione about the note, didn't want to hear their suspicions or advice. Everything they would say, he had already thought of. He decided he'd give this person a chance and meet them at midnight; it was either a DA member or an Inquisition Squad member, no one else knew about the Room of Requirement.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The corridors were quiet as Harry made his way to the seventh floor under his invisibility cloak with the Marauders Map in front of him. There were only professors wandering the halls so he assumed whoever had asked him to meet them was already in the Room of Requirement. He really hoped this wasn't a trick.

He arrived at the entrance and took a deep breath before pacing up and down three times.  _I need a place to meet the note giver, I need a place to meet the note giver, I need a place to meet the note giver_. The door appeared and he slowly opened it, removing the cloak as he entered. The room was coloured in a neutral brown and looked as though the Slytherin and Gryffindor Common Rooms had been merged together.

A figure was standing in front of the burning fire, facing away from the door. Harry would know that silhouette anywhere, "Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy turned around, "Potter," he greeted curtly.

They stared at each other in silence until Harry shifted, "Uh…"

"The Dark Lord wants me to sneak Death Eaters into Hogwarts," Malfoy burst out suddenly. Harry stared at him in disbelief. Malfoy took a deep breath and continued, "I know you may think this is a trap, I know I'm not acting like you're used to, but I am  _sick_  of pretending. I'm done trying to hide how I really feel, I've been playing a role and I think it's time you know who I really am.

"I'm a Malfoy and my father has been the Dark Lord's right-hand man since before I was born, as such, it is expected that I will follow his footsteps and ascend into the Inner Circle when my father is no longer around. If I don't find a way to let the Death Eaters in, they'll kill my mother. I come to you for help, whatever you feel for me,  _please_  help me save my mother and I'll get out of Britain with her; you won't ever have to see me again. You'll say goodbye to the Malfoy family forever."

"What makes you think I'm going to believe you?" Harry asked, "Do you any proof of your story?"

Malfoy's face crumpled, "No, I only have my word and I know that my word is not worth much to you. Even so, I give you, Harry Potter, my word as a Malfoy that all I have told you tonight is true."

Harry wasn't sure what made him believe Malfoy—perhaps the utter desperation he could see in the other boy's eyes—but he did believe him and that meant that he would help Malfoy, even if they had hated each other from the first day of school.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Narcissa Malfoy was allowed to go to Hogsmeade village on a weekend where Hogwarts students would be there to see her son. It had been decided that she would be less conspicuous to the other students than Lucius would be and she had been ordered to get an update from her son about how his mission was faring. This allowed the first part of Harry and Draco's plan to proceed. Draco would slip a portkey to his mother that would take her to the Shrieking Shack at midnight that night.

Harry reluctantly let Malfoy know about his invisibility cloak and they met up in front of the Slytherin Dorms. With both of them under the cloak, they made their way up to the astronomy tower from which they flew down to the Whomping Willow on brooms. A few minutes later, Harry successfully prodded the correct knot that stopped the Willow and motioned Malfoy to proceed into the tunnel.

"Follow the tunnel all the way until you come to an end, look up and there'll be a trapdoor that leads into the Shrieking Shack. It's up to you from there, Malfoy."

"Thanks, Potter. I swear, I will never bother you again."

"Whatever, Malfoy, just get down there before the Willow unfreezes."

Malfoy chuckled and stuck out his hand, just as he'd done in their first year, "Goodbye, Harry Potter."

"Goodbye, Draco Malfoy." Harry took the hand without hesitation and shook it before pushing Malfoy towards the tunnel, "Now go!"

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

There was alarm in the morning; a Slytherin student had gone missing during the night. After finding out it was Malfoy, Ron grinned and mumbled, "Good riddance," through a mouthful of food.

Hermione looked disgusted and worried. "But what if something's happened to him?"

"He's Malfoy, Mione! He's probably sneaked his way back to his father's place so he could become a little Death Eater."

"Now you're sounding like Harry, Malfoy may not be pleasant but he's not a Death Eater! He's too young to be one!" Hermione huffed.

Harry just grinned at their bickering and casually ate his toast. He knew exactly where Malfoy was, and he wasn't going to tell anyone. Malfoy had said goodbye to Magical Britain, Harry was quite happy with that, and he knew that he had been right all along. Malfoy had been planning something—even if that something caused him to escape and save his and his mother's lives. So, really, Harry had been perfectly within reason to stalk him.


	40. Centaur Divination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Professor Firenze  
> Beta: Kuro, Trish, Aya

There were many strange characters to be found at a school for witches and wizards, one of them being the headmaster of said school who appeared to be both colour-blind and slightly insane. That headmaster—Albus Dumbledore—hired a centaur as a Divinations Professor when the previous one had been fired. Firenze both loved and hated his job; like every centaur, he could read the stars and see what they said. He couldn’t quite figure out how to teach the humans how to understand centaur divination. He had also been exiled from his colony.

Still, the way he interpreted the stars, this was where Firenze needed to be. Listening to Lavender Brown prattle on about how she was sure she was a true Seer. Whilst the girl did have an understanding of the divining arts, a true Seer she was not. There were signs of world changing events speeding up—the same events that had started when young Harry Potter had been reintroduced into the Wizarding World.

Firenze stood at the edge of the Black Lake, looking over at his old home that was the Forbidden Forest. He missed running with his colony and, so far, the stars said nothing about reconciliation between Firenze and his colony.

“You’ll return,” came an airy voice from his right.

Firenze looked to the voice and smiled when he saw Luna Lovegood standing next to him. Luna was a Seer, even if she couldn’t access her gift fully at this time. Firenze trusted the word of a Seer, “Thank you, Miss Lovegood.”

“You’re welcome, you need to watch out for the wrackspurts.”

“I will be sure to do that,” he bowed his head gravely at her words before glancing at the suns position. “Class begins in 10 minutes, we should proceed to the classroom.”

“Of course, Professor.”

With one more longing look at the Forbidden Forest, Firenze turned away and accompanied Miss Lovegood to the Divination classroom where he would once again try to teach young humans the subtleties of centaur divining.


	41. The Birth of Helga Hufflepuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Theme: Summer  
> Prompts: Birth, Helga Hufflepuff's cup  
> Beta: Angel

 

The wails echoed through the village as a baby drew in its first breath and expelled it immediately. As one, the villagers sighed in relief. The birth of the little one had been hard on the mother and they had all worried if the little one would make it or not. Hearing a cry sound through the night was the most wonderful sound any of them had heard – even if it did wake them up from some much needed rest, it was harvest season after all.

In the small home of Tamar and Wilona Hufflepuff, the midwife smiled softly as she passed the newly born girl to her mother who was looking at her adoringly. The midwife knew that that little girl would have the best life her parents and the whole village could give her. For three seasons, the village had watched and worried over Wilona as she carried another child until she finally gave birth in the warm Summer months. They hoped against hope that this time, the child would survive. And she had.

"What will you call her?" she inquired gently.

Wilona smiled besotted at the small child in her arms, "Helga. Helga Cille Hufflepuff."

The midwife nodded in approval, it was a good name. "I'll fetch in your husband then and let you two get to know young Helga. Mind you rest though, dear."

There was a vague nod in acknowledgment as Wilona's attention was completely captivated by her daughter. The midwife just shook her head slightly and walked out to get Tamar, she had seen plenty of other new parents act this same way to know she would not be getting any long responses from either of them tonight.

Tamar was outside with several other village men, all anxiously awaiting her news. She grinned at them and addressed Tamar, "You have a healthy baby daughter, Tamar."

The man sagged in relief, and a silly smile appeared on his lips as the men around him clapped him on the back in congratulations before pushing him into his own house so he could go see his daughter and wandering off to their own homes to tell their wives the good news.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The next morning, there was a knock on the door of the Hufflepuff household and Tamar went to answer it. Outside stood the whole village, all eagerly waiting to see the newest member of their community. He laughed as he saw their eager-but-trying-to-repress-it faces and went to fetch his wife and daughter.

As Helga was revealed, they all gasped in wonder and adoration. There was no doubt that this child was going to be the princess of the entire village. Wilona circled through the crowd with little Helga in her arms and one by one, each villager greeted the small child in their own way. Some bestowed a kiss on her cheek or forehead, others presented small flowers that she could look at and play with.

When Wilona had been to each villager, she returned to the door of her home and stood there with her husband as they looked out at the crowd still surrounding them. Wilfrid stepped forward from the group and cleared his throat slightly.

"We, as a village, decided that this joyous occasion deserves a special gift and worked together to create something that your child could use in the future either as a utensil or a dowry."

From within his jerkin, he drew out a small, golden cup and presented it to the new parents. "We traded some of our finest furs for the gold and Dougal crafted the cup while Basil did the fine work. We wish you and Helga well for your new adventure."

Tamar and Wilona both nodded, overwhelmed by the generosity of their village. Wilona had tears in her eyes as she gazed at the small cup that was held in Tamar's hand. The cup was made out of gold and the Hufflepuff family crest was wrought out of various different metals and overlaid on two sides. It was a beautiful piece of work. A previously unknown burden lifted off her shoulders as she looked at that cup. Helga's cup. Helga Cille Hufflepuff's cup. Her daughter would always have reassurance of a good husband even if Tamar and Wilona could ill afford a grand dowry.

Helga's new cup had seen to that.


	42. Retaining the Sword of Gryffindor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Sharp  
> Beta: Aya

 

Throughout the Wizarding World, it was common knowledge that Goblin-forged items were the best. The Goblins used special techniques and imbued their steel with the ability to take on the properties of that which it interacted with that would make it stronger. It was also known that Goblins were extremely possessive of the items they forged and would not allow any wizard or witch to hold onto that item for longer than an agreed amount of time.

Years ago, there were many Goblin-forged items out in the Wizarding World. Slowly but surely, all of them were reclaimed by the Goblin Nation until the only items still in the general Wizarding World were the items that had been lost. Such as the famous lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw or the deadly sword of Godric Gryffindor.

Of course, Harry Potter managed to find both of these items within seven years of being in the Wizarding World when said world had spent several hundred years searching for them. The still sharp sword was imbued with the strongest poison known – Basilisk venom – and used to kill said Basilisk. The diadem was destroyed due to the Dark Lord Voldemort using it as a soul container.

The Goblins weren't particularly happy with that piece of information, but they were more interested in getting their hands on the sword that had been evading their grasp for many years. They had wanted to retrieve it when it had first appeared in Harry's second year, but Albus Dumbledore had stopped all their attempts and then decided to will it to Harry Potter.

They had managed to return it to the Nation when Griphook had taken it from Harry Potter and his friends when they had broken into Gringotts Bank. They had also managed to lose it again when Neville Longbottom had pulled it out of Hogwart's Sorting Hat and used it to behead Nagini, proving that the sword had stayed sharp for it to have the ability to cut through a Horcrux.

Every time the Goblin Nation repossessed the sword, it would inevitably vanish and reappear in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after it had been pulled from the school's Sorting Hat by a Gryffindor in need. No matter how many years may have passed, the sword remained as sharp as ever.


	43. One Word: Horcrux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Prove them wrong  
> Beta: Aya

 

There was always a fascination for Tom Riddle with living until all else had faded away. He had been even more fascinated by that line of inquiry when he had discovered that magic was actually real and that there were more people like him out there that might also have felt his fascination. He would build on their research, he thought, and find a way to live forever. That way, he could see all that there was to be seen and know all there was to know.

With multiple lifetimes at his fingertips, he'd be able to find and read all the books he wanted and research all of the topics that tickled his fancy. He would know all there was to know and when there was nothing else to learn, he'd create something new to think about. He would research all of the old rituals and spells, both of the Light type and the Dark along with the middling grounds of Grey. Nothing would stop his quest for information, not even death.

There was little to no information in the Hogwarts library when he looked, he blamed Dumbledore for that. That Light loving fool wouldn't be able to handle any books on Dark magic in his school, even if they taught how to combat said Dark magics. The man was only a Transfiguration Professor and yet Headmaster Dippet listened to him, Tom still didn't know why.

While there wasn't much to be found in the library, that didn't mean there was nothing. He had found a word that intrigued him. A small word that he had never heard before but was accompanied by an absolutely fascinating description. A way to split a person's soul and save the split off piece of soul into a separate container that should or would never fade and as long as some part of a soul remained on Earth, a person wasn't likely to leave the Earth either.

This was what he had been searching for. A Horcrux would help him remain alive even when the Earth itself had died. He was disappointed, however, that there was no more information easily accessible to him in the library. Not even in the restricted section could he find more on the elusive Horcrux. So he went to the teacher that he knew he had wrapped around his little finger. Horace Slughorn might be a Potions Professor but there was no guarantee that he wouldn't also know about some of the Dark Arts. For that was what a Horcrux must assuredly was. The darkest of Dark Arts but that wasn't going to stop Tom, not at all.

He would be researching even Darker Arts when he had his Horcrux and infinite life, he was sure of it.

Horace was very helpful and also very set against someone making a Horcrux. Especially against the idea of someone making more than one Horcrux. Tom didn't care though, seven was a powerful magical number. If he had seven Horcruxes, it wouldn't matter if someone somehow destroyed one, he would have backups. Dumbledore was watching him closely however, he couldn't begin to make Horcruxes yet.

He would have to wait until school let out for the holidays. Then he could start his plans. He would travel to Little Hangleton and use his useless muggle family for his first Horcrux. That way, the muggles would achieve something in their miserable lives beyond simply being a gene-donor to the most powerful wizard there was.

There was no way that a muggle would serve a greater purpose than to help a wizard live forever. After all, muggles had no magic of their own, so why not use them in a magic ritual that would grant them a higher purpose than that which they had faced for their entire lives? His father would aid him beyond simple creation, just as all fathers should.

He would prove Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn wrong. They would not see it coming for they believed it wasn't possible. Tom knew it was and he was determined to follow it through. A person could have multiple Horcruxes. A person could live forever no matter what the laws of Earth said. No matter how much Death called for a person to submit, that person could refuse so long as they took the correct counter measures. He would prove them wrong. He would show the entire Wizarding World what real power truly was.

He would not retain his muggle name of Tom Marvolo Riddle. No, he would become the immortal Lord Voldemort. He would know all there was to know, and people would come from all corners of the world to get his advice on spells and rituals. He would show them how the muggle filth were destroying their world and erasing their history.

When he had all the power and all the knowledge, the world would bow down to him and respect him as it should. He wouldn't be weak, half-blood, Tom Riddle. He would be wise and majestic Voldemort. He would prove them wrong. Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop him, no one would. The others wouldn't look down at him as if he were a bug on someone's shoe that had been crushed and was now an interesting experiment. They would know that Tom was the cunning snake that stalked and bit those lesser than it.

The Heir of Salazar Slytherin himself.


	44. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition  
> Prompt: Write a pairing you've never written before. (I chose Harry/Voldemort)

 

There had always been something drawing the two of them together. There was always something one did to hold the attention of the other. Whether that attention was good or bad didn't seem to matter, it was there all the same. They didn't realise at first what the constant awareness of the other meant. They hadn't realised that without that intensive scrutiny, they would slowly wither and die.

Even after they had separated and gone their own ways - one towards life and the other, towards death - they hadn't realised the full consequence of their actions. After all, who wouldn't feel something akin to relief and numbness if their nemesis had died? The relief was from not having to fight, and the numbness from the absence of a constant. For most of their lives, they had known of the other and had known that the other was trying to harm or kill them. It wasn't the best relationship two people could have with each other, but it was a relationship nonetheless.

Codependency had developed during the seven years they had both been aware of the other and had interacted almost yearly. A dangerous relationship that kept them both insane and sane from the routine they went through. Without thought of  _why_ , every fight happened at a time that would not be inconvenient to the other. If one of them could not fulfill a requirement of life due to their spats, perhaps their spats would end and they would have no one else that they felt so close to and yet repulsed by.

Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived and the Vanquisher of Voldemort - sighed as he leaned back in the chair by the window. He had lived in this dark place for a few years now, shunning the outside world that demanded more and more of him. He didn't think that he had anything left to give. He barely had enough to keep himself going, never mind the rest of the wizarding world. But wizarding society didn't care about that. Harry Potter wasn't a person. Harry Potter was a beacon of light in dark times, a figure who would never back down or crack under pressure. If the wizarding people were in need, Harry Potter would save them. Even if all they needed was a few more eggs for breakfast.

He lived in Grimmauld Place with only Kreacher to keep him company. When he first moved in, Ron and Hermione had occasionally come by, but that occurrence had petered out in recent times. His two best friends had lives of their own to live and found that being around someone who lived without happiness to be rather depressing. They had tried though, and Harry was grateful for the small joys they had given him as he tried to recover from the War.

It wasn't so much all the things that had happened in the war. His experience with the Dursleys had hardened him to the point that the darkness of humanity no longer surprised him or particularly affected him. No, it was the absence of war. Since he had been young, Harry had been in a war of some sort.

Whether that be with the Dursleys and trying to get them to love him as they loved Dudley or against Voldemort who wanted to kill Harry purely because a prophecy said so, Harry had lived in a warzone for most of his life and now there was no war. Peace reigned in the wizarding world and Harry no longer had any contact with the Dursley family. It was quiet. Too quiet.

All he had ever wanted was a normal life and now that he had it, he didn't know what to do with it. What did a person do when they weren't fighting for their life? According to his friends, a person actually  _lived_  their life. But Harry didn't know  _how_ , the only life he knew was one of fighting and without that, he was a shell.

It sounded crazy to him, and he knew that if he ever told anyone they would send him off to St. Mungo's in a heartbeat, but Harry almost missed Voldemort. He didn't miss the killing that Voldemort had done, the senseless feud between him and those he considered lesser. What Harry missed was the adrenaline, the excitement of what was to come next.

There had always been a mystery when Voldemort was around, a new challenge just around the corner that would come when he was ready. He really liked how Voldemort had somehow never managed to interrupt the Hogwarts school year too much. It was strangely considerate of the Dark Lord to allow his chosen nemesis the time to learn magic.

Now there was nothing to keep Harry alive, no new excitement that he had to prepare for. It was sad, and Harry really didn't know what to do. Kreacher came into the room then, bowing low. Kreacher still had a lot of respect for Harry, especially since he had destroyed the Horcrux that Regulus had entrusted to the House Elf.

"Master Harry needs to be going to sleep now," the Elf said.

Harry sighed. "I suppose you're right, Kreacher."

He got up and moved from the chair to the bed, ready to spend another sleepless night staring at the ceiling. Kreacher handed him a vial filled with blue liquid. "A sleeping draught for Master."

Harry nodded in understanding, "Thanks, Kreacher."

He gulped down the potion and collapsed onto the bed, too exhausted from nothing to bother changing into any semblance of sleeping clothes. The potion worked its magic and soon Harry was drifting off into sleep.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he noticed the light. He frowned. His curtains were always closed, so why was there light in room?

"Awake, I see," came a voice from his left. Harry jumped.

It wasn't Kreacher's voice. There was no one else in his house that he was aware of, as Hermione and Ron hadn't planned on visiting for a while yet. Looking to where the voice had come from, Harry stared. The sight in front of him was one he had never thought he'd see again since his second year and the Chamber of Secrets.

In front of him was Tom Riddle. Not Lord Voldemort but Tom Riddle, like he had been when he was young and still in Hogwarts without any Horcruxes. Harry stared at him in shock, and the other man smiled slightly. "Not what you were expecting, I gather?"

Unable to speak, Harry shook his head and continued his staring. The presence of his enemy filled his body with adrenaline, and he wondered what would happen next. What new fight would this younger-looking version of Voldemort put up?

Tom Riddle sighed, "It would seem that your Elf decided to obey a subconscious order of yours. He gave you a sleeping draught that would make you sleep forever."

"What?"

"He killed you, Harry Potter. In your mind, you saw nothing that would make your life worthy, and your Elf decided to fix that for you by sending you off into the  _next great adventure_  as Dumbledore would say."

"I'm dead?" Harry questioned. Tom Riddle nodded, "Why are you here then?"

"Apparently, you called me."

"Huh."

Harry could see it. Kreacher was still slightly affected by Regulus' death and quite possibly mad. Harry could understand why Kreacher had thought that killing Harry would make Harry happy. And perhaps the Elf was right, Harry realised. Standing opposite Voldemort made Harry feel more alive than he had felt for  _years_. Even if he was now dead…

"So," Riddle drawled, "what's the plan, Potter?"

Harry grinned, "Surprise me."

That was what he had been missing, after all. The surprises that Voldemort always gave him. Deciding to give the other man a surprise of his own, Harry lunged at Voldemort and hugged him tightly, pecking his cheek as he let go. Voldemort, clearly having expected an attack of some sort stood there with a stunned look on his face and Harry laughed.

That was what he had been missing. Now he had it, and he would never lose it ever again. "Come on, Voldemort! Let's go have some fun!"

And that was that, they spent their afterlives surprising the other with whatever they could think of. Occasionally, Harry thought back to the night that Kreacher had sent him past the veil. Occasionally, Harry would thank the mad House Elf for sending Harry to sleep. The mad little House Elf had given Harry his life back - by giving him his death.


	45. Joint and Split

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Hufflepuff/Slytherin pairing type  
> Beta: Magi

 

It was both completely implausible and the only conceivable result of two souls so different yet so similar meeting. They bonded over their similarities and learned about their differences. A partnership was formed between two Founders of Hogwarts that went beyond that of colleague and friend. Each learnt from the other.

Helga Hufflepuff was perhaps the kindest person Salazar Slytherin had ever met. She was always gentle to those around her – even the non-sentient creatures and plants that she happened upon. It was a different view to all the others Salazar had met over his life as all his previous acquaintances had either been brash, uncaring or a mixture of both.

On the flip side, Salazar was the most skilled manipulator Helga had met. The man was able to coerce others into giving up their fights or the last honey cake. He never used this skill for nefarious purposes and taught her how to use it to convince her students that studying was actually in their best interests.

The two taught each other various life skills that each of them had picked up along the way of their different walks of life and could often be found enjoying companionable solitude in one of Hogwarts Castle's towers. A year after Hogwarts had been made open to students, Salazar started courting Helga.

He had said that he had never found someone who was so alike him and yet challenged him almost every step of the way. She, of course, accepted his courtship for she too, had noticed how suited to each other they were. Their fellow Founders had given their blessing on the pairing and a six-month courting period began.

At the end, the two agreed that they enjoyed each other's company well enough to not despise attaching themselves permanently to the other. Thus, the bonding was planned and set for a date one month away. Married life was not all that dissimilar to that of courting, the only real difference being that they now shared the same rooms in Hogwarts and the same bed in said rooms.

Seven years later, Salazar realised that his respect and admiration for his wife had been joined by the emotion of love. Love was not a common thing to be found and he had never expected that he would be married to someone he loved. When he told his wife, she smiled and nodded, saying that she believed she was feeling the stirrings of love for him as well.

It took another year for the pair of them to feel comfortable expressing their emotion of love toward the other out loud. A year after that came the divide that forced Salazar to leave the school he had helped create. Helga was left behind to care for his students and continue his work. He had offered to take her with him, but she had refused. There was necessary work to be done at Hogwarts and she knew they would meet again at the end.


	46. Loony Lovegood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: [Word] Deluded  
> Beta: Aya

 

Crazy. Insane. Wacko. Nuts. Barmy. Bonkers. Loony. All words that had been thrown at him when he was a young child. When he had deluded himself that somewhere out there were people that understood him, that would know he wasn't mad. Yes, he believed in things that were not commonly known, but that didn't mean that he was crazy.

He had full control over his mental state and was not prone to running around the Black Lake naked whilst shouting that there was no other way to summon this or that. He was  _not_  crazy. He was merely able to see through the haze of mist that covered so many other's eyes. It was both a blessing and a curse, this ability to see. His parents had merely smiled at him when he rambled all about what he had done that day with the various creatures they thought didn't exist.

When he had grown older and still talked about them, they started giving him concerned looks and urged him to go outside more and talk to real people. He had been confused then, that was what he was doing wasn't he? The nargles may not be  _people_  as such but they were real and he talked to them outside. That was when he came to the conclusion that parents were idiots who had outgrown the ability to  _see_.

He believed that until he went to Hogwarts and started talking to his fellow housemates. He had eagerly brought up the subject of the nargles and the humdingers and the snorckack only to find those he was talking to staring at him strangely. When he had asked them why they were looking at him as they were, they had said that they had never heard of such creatures before and didn't believe they existed.

He had immediately sought out the Care of Magical Creatures professor and asked him about the creatures he had been able to see and talk to since he had been young. The professor had shaken his head and repeated what his classmates had said, there were no such things as nargles, humdingers or snorckacks.

Having been distracted by the nargles floating around the professor's head while the professor said this, Xenophilius Lovegood had been understandably confused but had chalked the refusal of knowledge to adults having grown up too much to be able to see the small creatures. He was sure he had once heard that adults could not accept some magics and he assumed that, for some reason, his creatures were counted as those magics.

That reasoning still did not explain why his classmates could not see that which he could see but he learned to live with it. Never again did he talk about his creatures with those around him. Instead, he went into the Forbidden Forest and spent many happy days gallivanting around with the creatures he had known since he was young and the new ones he found within the Forest's boundaries.

The professors knew that he went into the forest but did not try to stop him. He was the oddball that had delusions of creatures that did not exist. He had no friends within Hogwarts and seemed happier when he was allowed to go into the Forbidden Forest. In no time, he had become Loony Lovegood to the school and the only place to get away from his tormentors was the Forest.

So, they watched over the deluded child as he danced and weaved through the dark trees that frightened so many others. They watched as he laughed and chatted to things unseen by them. Yes, Xenophilius was mad and had completely deluded himself in the matter of strange creatures existing, but he was happy and performed well in school. Those were the more important things to the professors of Hogwarts.

He was not the first odd Lovegood to attend Hogwarts, nor would he be the last. Delusion of some sort always appeared in a Lovegood child, just like madness did in a Black child.


	47. Perfectly Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: [Emotion] Relief  
> Beta: Aya

Many things went through her mind when she was handed a letter on the new parchment that was supposed to be an outdated version of paper. For one, she was very confused as to why someone would give her a letter written on parchment. She didn't know anyone that had any sort of interest in old types of paper and nor did her parents. It seemed a very odd choice to give a young child of eleven a letter on parchment.

And it was for her, her name was written clearly – in some type of calligraphy! – on the front of it. What was beneath her name puzzled her and worried her parents greatly.  _The second bedroom on the right_. How did this stranger know where her bedroom was? And why was that important information to put on a letter?

Upon opening the envelope that bore her name, bedroom and address in green calligraphy, she found a letter that defied explanation. It also gave much needed explanation to all the things that happened around her that she had never understood. It was not normal for a toddler to make a well-loved cuddly toy fly through the air from the shelf and into their hands, after all.

Except, apparently, it was completely normal and even celebrated for some people. Those people were  _wizards_. Magic was  _real_. She had read and seen so many stories where magic played a part; Cinderella, Peter Pan, The Magic Faraway Tree, The Chronicles of Narnia, Matilda, James and the Giant Peach, Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, The Sword in the Stone, and so many more.

Magic was something she had wished she had with all her might. She would often stare at a glass of water and try to make it move like Matilda had done once. She had never succeeded at moving the glass, but so many other things had happened around her that she felt there had to be some reason for it.

Her parents read the letter over her shoulder and all three of them spent quite some time staring blankly at the piece of parchment that changed their world forever. Finally, her father plucked the letter from her hands and started examining it carefully. He read through the letter several times after performing strange things to the parchment that she assumed made him more confident in its legitimacy.

"Well," he finally said, "if this is true, it would explain quite a bit."

The woman who had delivered the letter – a stern looking woman with grey hair in a strict bun – cleared her throat. "I assure you, Mr. Granger, it is very true. Perhaps a demonstration?"

Not waiting for a reply, she pulled out a wooden stick, waved it while saying something in another language and the vase sitting on one of the side tables suddenly turned into a teapot. The three members of the Granger family gasped, and her mother pulled her closer to her. Hermione stared at the teapot that had previously been a vase.

Many things went through her mind at that moment but the most prominent was a feeling of utter relief. She wasn't going mad, she wasn't some strange alien from a far away planet that had been destroyed and her real parents had sent her away to protect her. She was a  _witch_ , she had  _magic,_  and that was perfectly okay.


	48. That is the Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Discovering that you are a magical creature or squib.  
> Theme: First experience or first time doing something.  
> Beta: Aya

Would she, or wouldn't she? The thought ran through everyone's minds that night. The time had come. Her entire family had congregated in the Delacour French home as the youngest of them grew closer to discovering any previously hidden traits. It was tradition for a family with any creature blood to gather together when one of them grew of the age that that creature's traits would emerge. For those with Veela ancestry, it was their sixteenth birthday and Gabrielle Delacour was about to turn sixteen.

Gabrielle had been attending Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for a few years already, so her family knew that due to the high content of magic in and around her, there was a higher chance for the Veela attributes to emerge. Of course, they could not know for sure until the time had arrived and passed. Thus, the whole family was mingling in the sitting room while Fleur and Gabrielle waited patiently (or impatiently in Gabrielle's case) for the magic to start its work in the young girl's bedroom.

Bill Weasley was also present, having been invited due to him being married to the eldest Delacour daughter. He had been honoured when Fleur had told him he would be coming to this highly private and family-only event. It meant that the rest of the Delacour's had accepted him as family, even if he sometimes had bouts of werewolf tendencies. He figured that being from a family of Veela descent, they were more used to being around those who also exhibited traits of various magical creatures.

Inside Gabrielle's bedroom, said child was currently panicking. "What if nothing happens?"

"Then you will not be Veela and nothing changes," Fleur replied calmly from her seat on the bed as she watched her younger sister pace back and forth.

"But everyone expects me to change! Everyone expects the magic to recognise the Veela in my blood and accept it!"

"It is not your duty to fulfil expectations of others, even those of our family. Yes, we expect that you shall change, but we will not treat you any different should you not. There are past examples of changing and we know that changing is increased when exposed to magic. So we think it is very likely for you to become like me."

"But what if I don't become like you?"

"Then you are Gabrielle Delacour, just as you are now."

Gabrielle flopped down on the bed next to her sister and heaved a great sigh. "I'm scared, Fleur."

"I know," Fleur laid down and wrapped her arms around her sister in comfort. They lay there together as the clock counted down the minutes and seconds until the moment of Gabrielle's possible transformation.

Gabrielle had managed to fall asleep, exhausted from fretting and excitement. Fleur watched over her sister as she slept, happy to let her sleep until magic descended upon her. Somewhere out in the hall the grandfather clock chimed but was unheard by the two in the small bedroom. Suddenly, golden light appeared above Gabrielle and the young girl woke up screaming.

The light sank into her body as she continued to shudder and scream while Fleur could only stand by and watch, holding herself back from comforting her sister. She could not interfere with the magic as it went about its business and she hated every millisecond of it. Over an hour passed before the light finally faded fully.

Half an hour in, Gabrielle had stopped screaming and had instead been overcome with minute shudders that overtook her body entirely. She had curled up into a ball and huddled against the headboard. Throughout the whole process, Fleur talked as soothingly as she could, reminding her sister that she was not alone. Her fingers kept twitching as she forced herself not to reach out and touch her sister, to hold her hand or brush back her now sweaty hair.

Finally, it was over. Gabrielle sank back onto the bed in a mass of tired limbs and Fleur immediately pounced forward to gather her sister into her arms. Soothing words were now whispered into Gabrielle's ears and the sweaty hair was brushed away from where it had been stubbornly staying for the past hour.

Every possible Veela was warned of the pain that would accompany a change but being told it would happen was nothing like actually experiencing it. The pain of having whole new areas of magic opened up was comparable to the Cruciatus Curse and lasted much longer than a normal casting of said curse would. New pathways were forcefully paved by magic as a Veela was born.

The knowledge of the allure was thrust into the mind, the ability of transforming from normal human to bird-like creature was unlocked, features rippled and changed so that they would always appear to be what the viewer most desired. It was by no means a pleasant experience and no pain-numbing potions could be taken in the fear that they would interfere with the transformative magic.

Gabrielle sobbed lightly as she curled up in her big sister's hug, she had known it would hurt. She had thought that she was prepared for it even as it scared her. She almost wished that she had not been considered to have enough Veela blood within her to qualify, but then she thought of how proud her family would be and how much she had wished to be just like her mother and sister. That thought had comforted her during the eternity that her body had been changed by magic. That and the knowledge that Fleur was right there with her as the magic ravaged her entire being and left behind something new.

All heads snapped up as a loud scream echoed into the living room. Sighs of relief and winces of sympathy were given by almost everyone in the room. They knew that Gabrielle had wanted nothing more than to follow her mother's and sister's footsteps, but they also knew the pain that the young girl was currently going through. Many of them had felt the same pain as they too, had been transformed by magic into the creature they were today.

They waited in silence as the screaming continued, each of them sending out prayers and hopes for Gabrielle's wellbeing. When the screams tapered off, they relaxed slightly. The worst part was over now, the blinding pain would now merely be agonising and that in turn would dissolve into aftershocks before disappearing entirely.

"To Gabrielle Delacour, a Veela," one of the Delacour uncles said, raising his glass and the others murmured their assent before toasting the young girl and drinking from their individual glasses.

Several weeks later, Gabrielle had settled into her new life as a Veela. Her first experience with Veela magic – like every Veela before her – was not in the slightest bit pleasant. Blinding pain generally isn't considered as a good thing, after all. After that, however had led to a whole new slew of challenges such as controlling the transformation between human and Veela appearance.

The first time she had changed was when Fleur had (in her mind) taken far too long in the bathroom. Annoyance had surged through her and suddenly she had wings, claws and a fireball in one hand. Startled, Gabrielle had jumped back – a useless endeavour seeing as she was trying to escape from herself – and accidently dropped the flaming ball.

Fleur had rushed out when she heard screaming and found Gabrielle in full Veela mode trying to douse a flame while inadvertently creating more flame balls in her panic. Grabbing her wand from one of the bathroom counters, Fleur had cast  _Aguamenti_  and gathered up her shaking sister when all the fire was gone.

Drawn by the commotion and the smell of smoke, their parents and Bill had come rushing into the hallway with their wands out. When they saw the two sisters in a hug with one of them transformed and the scorch marks on the floor, they relaxed. Their mother came up and enveloped them both in a hug while the other two started repairing the floor.

It was the first unintended transformation but it certainly wouldn't be the last. With every new Veela, it took a different amount of time for them to gain control. With Fleur, it had taken almost six months until there were no more accidents. She said as much when Gabrielle had expressed a fear of never being able to control her transformations.

Fleur also reminded her sister that until she had fully grasped her new powers, Fleur wouldn't be going anywhere. It was always advisable to have other creatures around when someone was settling into their new inheritance. Thus, Fleur as another Veela and her sister would be around should Gabrielle need her. Bill would also be there, as both the husband of Fleur and someone with a werewolf presence.

The man may not be fully werewolf, but he was one enough for the Veela's to recognise another creature. The protectiveness of wolves over their family was well known and the Delacour's were Bill's family. He would be there for Gabrielle should an actual Veela such as her mother or sister be available or the young girl had any problems that she wasn't comfortable going to her blood family for help.

And so passed the first five months of Gabrielle Delacour's sixteenth year. There were always new challenges that popped up, but with the aid of her family, she worked through them. She was glad that she had become a Veela, glad that the magic had found her worthy. Gabrielle knew that if she somehow went back in time to when she had not been Veela, she would not fear the pain for she knew that what came after it was well worth an hour or so of pain.


	49. Adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition  
> Prompt: Home Alone

There were many times in his life that Harry had been alone. Of course, when the Dursleys went on holidays, he was left with Mrs Figg and all of her cats. Or Aunt Marge. He hated staying with Aunt Marge; her dogs always tried to attack him. Mrs Figg’s cats were much better but then again, Mrs Figg always had stale cake that he enjoyed the sweetness of but not the dryness. So, one time when the Dursley’s were preparing to leave for the airport, he hid.

Being who he was to the family, they didn’t spend too much time looking for him and as such, never found him in his rather poor hiding spot of the tree just a few blocks down from Privet Drive. Instead, they gave up after five minutes, loaded the car, locked up the house, and drove off. Maybe they were hoping that Harry would run off and not bother them while they were away. 

Whatever they thought, Harry was just happy to not have to deal with Mrs Figg or Aunt Marge. After waiting for an hour to make sure that the Dursley’s weren’t coming back, Harry walked back to Number 4. Once he reached the silent house, he lifted the rock that hid the spare key and let himself in. Apparently, the Dursley’s didn’t think him capable of finding out where they hid their spare key should Dudley come home to an empty house or one of them forgot their house keys when they were out.

Still, it worked in Harry’s favour and he gleefully sat down on the couch in the living room. The couch was Vernon and Dudley’s territory and Harry was never allowed on it. He also made himself a sandwich and ate that, though he was careful not to let any crumbs fall on the floor or the couch. Sitting on the couch and looking around the empty room, Harry wondered what he should do now.

He had never really had any time to himself and certainly never had any time where there was no chores or homework to be done. Eyes falling on the TV remote, Harry shrugged and decided to see what had his family so obsessed with the box and its multitude of channels. The first channel to flick on was a news channel and that was interesting for a few minutes. However, it grew depressing after a while. 

Flicking through, Harry stopped on a animated film that showed someone waving their hands and chanting nonsense. Curious, Harry kept watching and was drawn into the magical world of Merlin and Arthur Pendragon as the young boy named Arthur searched for a magical sword under the guidance of a wizard. It was fascinating, and Harry was immediately in love.

As things tend to do, the movie finished, and Harry was once again bored. He had spent far longer than he ever had just sitting, and his body was protesting from the stillness. Getting up, he stretched, dropped his plate off in the sink, and then wandered upstairs. Upstairs was another place that he was rarely allowed to go.

It wasn’t all that interesting, which was annoying to the curious boy who wanted an adventure while his relatives were away. Then he saw the door that was slightly ajar and moved to investigate Dudley’s bedroom. Remembering the show he had just watched, Harry raised his hands in front of him as he’d seen Merlin do (he didn’t have a sword so he couldn’t be Arthur) and carefully pushed open the door.

The room was packed with all kinds of things. There were toys everywhere, a computer sat on a desk that was covered in computer games, action figures and the occasional comic. Intrigued, Harry stepped closer, avoiding the random piles of clothes and toys like he was in a dungeon and they were traps. 

When he reached his goal, Harry ignored the computer, having no idea how it worked and instead picked up a comic. He had seen Dudley read these and knew they were the only things the other boy would read apart from school books he was forced to look at. On the cover was a man covered in some kind of red and gold armour with a blue light in his chest. 

Harry flicked through the comic and was fascinated by the pictures. Knowing that his relatives wouldn’t be home for a few days and inspired by both the comic and the movie, he raced downstairs to raid the cupboards. Several hours later and Harry had his own armour and a sword in the form of several pots and a ladle.

Completely free of relatives that would try to stop him from playing his game, Harry charged around the house and backyard. He managed to kill several monsters that were trying to destroy the Earth and even managed to trap one of them in the garden hose! It had spilled all of its evil plans, and Harry had managed to save the day from the evil monster things that had invaded.

After that, he realised just how carried away he had gotten with his game and hastily started to clean up. The flour that had somehow gotten out of the pantry and used as a weapon was swept up and put in the bin. The garden hose was reeled in, and his armour was dismantled before being put away.

That night, Harry slept well and dreamt of adventuring around with Arthur and Merlin, protecting them with his awesome fighting skills. The next day, Harry spent his time in Dudley’s room reading more comic books and getting even more inspiration for his imagination to work with. The entire time his relatives were away, he read and played and quite often had clean up the inevitable messes he created while killing monsters, saving damsels and simply adventuring through the lands of the worlds he discovered.

In a few years, he would receive a multitude of letters that all said the same thing when he finally managed to read one. He was a wizard just like Merlin had been, he didn’t need a sword to fight the monsters; he had a wand and magic!


	50. Felix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition  
> Prompt: Write about getting a pet for the first time and it turning out to be different than expected

Growing up, there had always been a wish for a family dog. She knew that that would never happen as her mother was allergic to dogs but still hoped that one day, she would be able to have a dog. Of course, that would have to wait until such a time as she no longer lived with her parents. Which she could handle, she was a patient person. Most of the time.

There would always be a bit of sadness in her that she had never gotten a dog when young but her parents had sat her down once when she had decided to throw a rather large tantrum about the lack of dog in the house. It had been explained to her that a dog would not be possible and her dreams had slowly faded into the background. Still, Lily Evans believed that she would one day have the dog she desired.

That was until she met a boy called Severus Snape who told her all about the magical world that she was apparently a part of. For witches and wizards, it was normal to have either a cat, owl or toad. Lily was rather annoyed at the inclusion of cat but not dog. She didn't particularly want a cat but also had no idea of what she would do with a toad. An owl was interesting but how exactly would she care for it? So, it was decided that she would have a cat. A cat was an acceptable animal in a muggle neighbourhood, after all. Thus making it easier to hide the fact that one of the Evans' daughters was not entirely normal.

Diagon Alley was rather crowded on the day they went to collect school things for Lily. It was there that the animal they had decided on changed in a rather dramatic fashion. Lily had been looking over the different cats that were available for purchase and had reached the point where she was debating over two of them.

They were both adorable and she liked the playful manner in which they moved around the display case they were in. According to the salesperson, the cats were also more intelligent than normal cats, which was a bonus. She had just been about to pick one up when an owl swooped down at her and placed itself on her shoulder.

Lily froze when the owl situated itself on her person, arms still extended to pick up a cat. The owl didn't seem to mind, merely stayed where it was and hooted softly in a satisfied sort of manner. Her parents and sister all looked warily at the bird on her shoulder while the shopperson grinned happily.

"Ah. I see young Felix has taken a liking to you."

Lily turned her eyes to look at him, still frozen, "Felix?"

The man nodded, "He's one of our more difficult customers, never seems to agree with anyone who thinks to purchase him."'

"What does that mean for me?"

The owl - Felix - nudged his head against hers and hooted softly again. The man shrugged apologetically, "I'm afraid it seems as though you have been claimed by dear Felix here. And I do believe he's rather possessive. He most likely won't allow you to have another animal that could possibly draw your attention away from him."

"But what do I do with an owl?"

"You send letters, of course!" The man was shocked that the young girl in front of him didn't see the use of owls. "If you didn't have your own owl, you'd have to pay to use one of the Post Owls. I assure you, it's much easier to just have your own owl."

Her father cleared his throat then, "That's all very well but we live in a place full of those who are unaware of magic's existence. An owl is rather conspicuous, how are we expected to hide the fact that Lily has an owl for a pet?"

"All of our owls come with a slight notice-me-not charm embedded in their feathers. It means that the muggles won't pay any attention to Felix here, their eyes will just skip over him."

Lily thought it over, slowly straightening up and bringing her hands out of the cat enclosure. She thought about what an owl would mean. The man was right, it would be incredibly convenient to be able to send letters to anyone. And she was already quite attached to the bird on her shoulder that kept butting her head and hooting.

He seemed to know that she was unsettled and wanted to make her feel better. An owl wasn't a cat or a dog but it was on the list of accepted animals for Hogwarts. If what the man said was correct, she didn't have much of a choice anyway. Felix had decided he liked her and that was enough for him to decide he would go with her and belong to her. Though she had a feeling that he wouldn't be much of a kept pet, he was more likely to be a free spirit.

So long as he was around when she wanted him though, she could handle him flying off for some time. "How do I care for him?" She asked the man, her decision made.

He fell into a lecturing mode, giving her a speech she was sure he had given many others. "The most important thing is to give him his freedom. Owls do not handle being cooped up well. Look after his feathers and make sure that he rests enough between postal deliveries. You can't ask him to carry heavy packages without either lightening the package or giving him a boost of strength.

"He will like to have treats every so often which we stock here," he showed her a bin of owl treats. "If you treat him right, he'll become your best friend. Don't worry about him flying away, he'll want to hunt for his own food sometimes and he will always fly back to you. He likes you, he's formed a bond with you and that means that he'll always know where you are."

He continued on, telling her all the little things about owl care and she nodded to everything he said, taking it all in. She may have once wanted a dog, settled on a cat and then been selected by an owl but that didn't mean she wasn't going to care for the owl as best she could. In fact, she might even care for him more. He had chosen her not the other way round, she would have to show him that he had made the right choice.

That day, Lily Evans returned home with an owl on her shoulder. In a few years, she would get her desired dog in the form of her friend Sirius Black who managed to become a dog animagus. Until then, she had Felix and she was perfectly happy with that.


	51. Children Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: [Word] Distinguished  
> Beta: Aya Diefair

There were many things you were taught when you were a child and belonged to a Noble and Most Ancient House within the wizarding world. You were taught how to eat, how to walk, how to speak, how to dance, how to navigate the murky waters of politics. Some taught their children that they were the superiors while others taught of equality between all types of wizards and witches. Yes, even Mudbloods were considered equal by some families.

Lessons were what the children of Noble and Most Ancient Houses knew. From the moment they were old enough to understand the most rudimentary of things, the lessons began. As babies, they were taught with much patience (and many small charms designed for such a purpose) how to walk, talk and eat properly. There wasn't time for baby-talk unless the family had a reason for indulging in such an undignified manner such as melting the heart of someone they wanted something from.

Want a vote in the Wizengamot to go a certain way? Bring a baby and let it do what babies did so that all those who voted were distracted by such an adorable child and wanted to protect said child. What sane person would allow dangerous creatures such as werewolves access to homes where they could very well harm the future of wizard-kind? Many a passionate speech has been accompanied by the happy gurgle of a baby. The Houses were not above using their own children as a means to win an argument.

But that didn't matter to the one currently examining himself in a mirror. He was no longer of an age where he might aid his family in arguments with cuteness. He was now at the age where he was expected to aid his family with a quick tongue and an even sharper mind. There were no longer any chances to make a mistake. He was to look and act like the pure-blood heir he was. The Malfoy family was full of distinguished people and it was Lucius Malfoy's job to continue on that tradition.

The boy being reflected by the mirror was clothed in rich green fabric – to show that he was a Slytherin like his father before him and his father before him. The Slytherin crest was overshadowed by the Malfoy crest, both of which rested on the left side of his chest and imprinted into the fabric. The green formal robes fell down to the floor and framed the elegant, aristocratic body that Lucius had been granted as part of the Malfoy family.

The face that lay above the robes was pale and pinched, allowing nerves to show when the owner of it was alone. There were to be no signs of weakness when out in public, but it was perfectly acceptable to show a bit of nerves beforehand. What happened behind closed doors was the business of no one but the family who owned those doors. This was the moment that Lucius Malfoy was expected to leave behind the shadow of his father and instead show the world that he was a Malfoy on his own merits.

He would succeed. He would show the wizarding world just why pure-bloods were greater than Mudbloods or blood traitors. Those with pure-blood were far more distinguished, held onto to old practices and took pride in their families.

There was no mistaking a pure-blood for anything else. They held about them an air of elegance, an air of superiority. For they were superior. They were far more defined than any other. After one singular tweak to the robes that enveloped him, Lucius Malfoy nodded in satisfaction. He was ready.

There were many expectations placed on an heir of a Noble and Most Ancient House. Those who belonged to such a house were pure-bloods, something which already came with its own set of expectations. Add in a House that held power in the society of magic and there were more rules to be obeyed. There would be no running outside in the mud and getting dirty. An heir was to always look presentable, an heir was to be kind to those that deserved their kindness, an heir was to take responsibility for their own actions and learn many skills.

It would do to have an heir unknowing of how to play the piano or navigate a political scene. It would not do for an heir to make an enemy with a house that they were in accords with. There were no ways that an heir could be a normal, lower child. They would not spend their time playing in the mud like Mudbloods. Their blood was pure, it would not be sullied by any taint.

This was the way it was. Every child of a house grew up with these rules. Every child passed them on to their own child. It did not change. They were superior to all others and knew what would help them retain their superiority. The children learned the ways of their forebears and passed them down to their descendants.

Draco Malfoy stared at himself in the mirror. It was the first year of Hogwarts and he would depart for the school tomorrow. He was to show the world that the next generation of Malfoy would be as great as the previous one. He was to befriend those that would be beneficial to the Malfoy family and let all those below him know just where they stood.

It would not do to allow someone so much lower than them to associate with the Noble House of Malfoy. They were a distinguished family, with many feats and inventions in their family line. Draco was a product of a union between the Malfoy family and the Black family. He was pure, he was superior to half-bloods and Mudbloods.

A final tweak to the robes he would be wearing tomorrow to Platform 9 ¾ and on the Hogwarts Express had Draco smiling slightly. He was ready. He was nervous but he was ready. He would not let down his father, nor his family. He would let the wizarding world know that the family of Malfoy was as great as ever. The world would forget that his father had been accused of being a Death Eater and thus avoided by those who felt him wrong or dangerous.

The Malfoy name would return and be greater than ever before. And it was Draco's job to bring them back into the light.

There were no expectations on him, except that he be happy. He was friends with a family that had previously been known as blood traitors. He was friends with many Muggle-born. His father and mother taught him many things. He knew how to talk with the Minister for Magic, knew how fly a broom. He knew how to brew potions and how to play football.

He brought the Malfoy name forward from the darkness that had previously held it back. He showed the wizarding world that the Malfoy family accepted those below them, that the Malfoy family accepted the equality granted to all wizards and witches via magic. He looked in the mirror again as he got ready for a round of de-gnoming the Weasley garden and nodded, grinning.

Scorpius Malfoy was ready to show the world just what being a Malfoy meant. They were dignified and loyal to their family. They were pure-bloods and a Noble and Most Ancient House. Rugged up in the bright green jumper with a large 'S' on the front knitted for him by Mrs. Weasley, Scorpius ran out to meet his father. They would Apparate to the Burrow and then Scorpius would join the Weasley children in the joyous task of picking up gnomes and throwing them away.


	52. A Good Partnership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: [Sound] Whistle  
> Beta: Aya

The hippogriff enjoyed flying through the sky by the large building of stones. His kin also enjoyed the place, so much so that they had settled down within the forest nearby the building. They were not hunted in this place, they were free to fly during the day or night. It was a fun place, a calm place.

The hippogriff had just landed from a flight around the large lake near the building and was walking into the forest from the lake. He did not pay heed to those who watched him, he knew that there were many reasons for a human to watch something as grand as he was. His kind were beautiful and highly dignified, after all.

He stopped with a snort as he realised that someone had blocked his path. He glared at the one who dared step in the way of a hippogriff and was pleased to see the other looked rather askance at his own daring. The hippogriff was also pleased to see that the other immediately bowed when he saw that he had gained the hippogriff's attention.

The hippogriff gazed thoughtfully at the one in front of him. He had stepped in front of a hippogriff, had blocked the path of said hippogriff, but clearly knew that hippogriffs demanded respect and had bowed. The hippogriff decided that he would give this man in front of him a chance. He bowed his front legs and lowered his head in acknowledgement of the other.

The man grinned and stepped forward, holding out his hand. The hippogriff allowed it and gave a happy sound when the other went straight for the place that brought pleasure to every hippogriff. The ruff that protected their necks from the cold was eternally itchy and they were not adept at scratching it for themselves or others of their kind.

"I'm gonna to call you Buckbeak," the man declared and then hurriedly added at the glare the hippogriff sent him, "If tha's okay with you."

The hippogriff thought it over and then snorted in agreement, shaking his head and nudging the man to continue his scratching. Buckbeak was an acceptable name while he was within this man's presence. The man obligingly continued to scratch as he asked, "Would it be okay if I showed you off to some students? Only, I'm the Care o' Magical Creatures pr'fessor and I ain't quite figured out what I'm s'posed to do."

Buckbeak nodded in agreement and the man grinned. "Great. I'm Hagrid, by the way. I'll whistle when I need you, if tha's okay."

Answering to a whistle was similar to being a pet, Buckbeak thought. Still, he didn't have to answer and if he did, he would be allowing others to see the wonderous sight of a hippogriff. Yes, Buckbeak thought, it would be good to show these humans how magnificent we are. A good partnership, he thought. And when Hagrid brought him a few dead ferrets, well, that was just a bonus.

Later, when a sharp whistle rang out across the forest and Buckbeak answered, the hippogriff was quite happy to show off to the children. He decided he liked the one who had not stepped back with the others, he showed a reasonable and understandable amount of fear but also still treated Buckbeak with the respect that hippogriffs deserve.

He did not like the one who started insulting him and his kin, though. And he made sure the other knew about it. Not enough to kill, not yet. Merely a warning. Do not insult a hippogriff or you will surely feel their wrath.


	53. The Day of CAT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: Teachers and students switching roles for a day  
> Requirement: Written in first person  
> Beta: Magi Silverwolf

There are many things that go with running a school, I have found. It is not merely imparting the knowledge you have gained over the course of your life. I also find myself needing to look after the children that are in my care. I teach these children not only magic, but also the lessons I have learned throughout my own life. However, there are some things that have to be experienced to be learnt. This is why my friends and I began the tradition of letting the students teach  _us_  occasionally.

We realised that though we are able to share our knowledge with those in our classes, it does not necessarily mean that that knowledge is being accepted. So that we knew our words were being heeded, the four of us introduced the day of CAT—Children Attempt Teaching. It is our way of making sure our students know the things we have taught them as well as we do ourselves.

Sometimes we have students who know nothing of what they are supposed to be teaching and instead tell amusing stories in the hope that we will not berate them for not learning. Other times we have students who have studied a subject far beyond what we have and actually end up teaching the teachers about that subject. Those times are by far the most fascinating. It is often clear that the student is passionate about the area they are teaching us and it is wonderful to see such dedication to the art of magic.

The time leading up to the day of CAT is the busiest for both teachers and students. Those that are expected to take on the role of professor for a day are often running back and forth like a cerberus who has lost one of its heads. The multitude of questions that we are asked by these mad children is staggering.

We find that we do not have a lot of time for quiet in these times, too often are such times interrupted by a frantic student who needs to know why it is not wise to put porcupine needles in a cauldron while it is sitting above a flame (the answer is, of course, an explosion of some sort will occur depending on the other ingredients in the cauldron).

It is therefore, a great relief when the day finally dawns and the students can attempt to impart their frantically gathered information to their own students consisting of Godric, Salazar, Rowena and myself. The four of us do not always attend the same student's class as there are far too many students for such a thing to happen. But there are always at least two of us, one wise in the subject and one less so.

Godric has always been abysmal at potions while Salazar is a genius and thus the two of them will attend the classes that students hold revolving around the subject of potions. I hold much practical knowledge in herbology and Rowena only factual; we are quite the pair when a student is attempting to teach us what they have learned.

When a student is teaching the subject of transfiguration, it is Godric who will pay close attention to what they are saying and know whether it is correct or not. The same goes for Rowena when a student has decided to regale us with all they know on the subject of charms. My friend is quite well versed in the usage of charms and has created quite a few of her own.

I sit now in a class taught by a rather nervous and enthusiastic young boy. He is discussing the art of wandless and wordless magic casting. It is clear on his face that this is something that means a great deal to him, most likely due to the way we found him and brought him back to Hogwarts with us. It was many years ago now, and yet I still remember it clearly. Such a thing as being chased out of a town by people carrying pitchforks and torches tends to leave an impression.

The young man, Merlin, had grown up around Muggles with no idea that such a thing as magic existed. He found himself able to do things that his friends could not and his mother had told him to hide these abilities he found himself with. Salazar and I were travelling to the South of Hogwarts Castle in order to find students and happened to be in the town Merlin lived in when he inadvertently showed his neighbours his magic.

He had good reason, yes, but it meant the end of his life as he knew it. As the young child slowed its descent from the rooftop, we searched for the one who used magic. As did the townsfolk after they had assured themselves the child was alright. I fear for our kind if the first reaction of people who have just had a child saved by magic is to try and stone the one who performed such an action.

If even the act of saving a child is not enough to gain the slightest bit of gratitude or acceptance, what sort of a life will my descendants live? Will they be shut away from those that fear and hate them? Will they grow to hate those that hate them? I hope that it is not so, but I fear it will be.

The eyes of young Merlin shine as he regales us with his knowledge, showing that this is far more than mere schoolwork. He wishes to show us the wonders of working without a wand and voice. It is clear to see that he wishes to explore magic to the fullest and that is a goal that I can wholeheartedly support.

The lesson is over now and it is time for Godric and I to let our student know how he did as a teacher. Godric expresses his approval with a very enthusiastic slap on the back, an explosive, "Well done, my lad!" and then proceeds to bound out of the classroom to his next class.

It is I who provides a touch more feedback for the young man to consider. "You did exceedingly well, Merlin. It is clear to me that this is a subject you feel strongly about. Your passion and knowledge made for an interesting class. I have a feeling we will be seeing great things from you soon."

Merlin flushed and ducked his head, "Thank you, Lady Hufflepuff."

I smiled at him and swept out of the classroom. I had another class to attend and I had a feeling this one would not be as interesting as the last. Young Horace preferred to spend his days swinging a sword around than learning the art of spell casting. It was sure to be entertaining, at the very least.


	54. George's Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition and The Houses Competition  
> Prompts: George Weasley, an old broomstick

There were plenty of times when being a twin was the most wonderful thing in the entire world. Of course, like any other thing, there were also times when being a twin was one of the most annoying things in the world. Such times most notably included those where one identical twin was being addressed via the name of the other identical twin.

There were times when this made for grand jokes and laughter. There were times where this made for rather awkward conversations (a romantic interest yelling at a twin who was not dating them, for example). Having a twin meant having someone constantly on your side, for if no one else could tell them apart, at least they could. Or at least, they thought they could. After living together for the entirety of their lives, could they ever be entirely sure of who they were as individuals?

To the rest of the world, they were Fred and George Weasley. They were not Fred Weasley and George Weasley. You could not have one without the other. Until you could. Until one died and left the other alone in a world that had never been so quiet. George was never the same after his partner had left him.

It was understandable. His entire life, he had had someone next to him, learning the same things he was learning, playing the same jokes on people. They were a team. They  _had been_  a team. Now he was alone and there was no way that anyone could ever replace or lessen his loss.

Angelina tried. She tried so very hard, and George loved her for it, but a wife was not the same as a brother and most definitely not the same as a twin. He continued working on their dream, continued making products for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and bringing joy to other people who had lost their loved ones in the war.

What else could he do? He had no desire for anyone to feel the pain he was feeling, and if he could brighten up their days, then he would do so. It was sometimes said that the saddest people had the brightest smiles. In every single depressed person, there was a desire to save others from the same pain. That was the only thing that kept George going some days.

He sometimes thought he heard Fred's laughter in the wind and would desperately want to join him in the afterlife, pranking all their ancestors. But if he did that, he would be causing Angelina the same pain that he was going through. And that he was determined not to do. George sighed (as he tended to do quite a bit nowadays) and leaned against the old broomshed that contained various relics of his past.

Inside the shed were the brooms that he and Fred had flown on during their Quidditch games at Hogwarts. Inside that shed were the brooms that had crushed Slytherin so very many times and had let them escape from the tyranny of Dolores Umbridge. Flying had always been fun. With such a big family, it had been easy to have mini Quidditch matches, and the Weasleys had spent many a day out in the field behind the Burrow playing Quidditch together.

It didn't happen much anymore. They were down a player. Bill and Charlie were off in other countries, continuing their work and trying to forget and move past the war. Ron was happily married to Hermione and working alongside Harry as they tried to make the world safe as Aurors. Ginny was the one who played Quidditch the most, as she was a professional player now after all.

The memories that had been dredged up just by leaning on the slowly decaying wood made George want to see the brooms that had held so much joy in them. He heaved himself off the wooden wall and proceeded to unlock the shed with a quick  _Alohamora_. There they were. The brooms that he and Fred had had over the years. Even a few old brooms from Hogwarts that they had smuggled out at one point.

George stood in the doorway and stared at them all neatly stacked in their shelves. They were still at the moment, but he could feel their magic buzzing at his presence, begging to be used. He grinned slightly. Brooms would never change, always wanting attention. Bypassing the newer models that were in the shed (Ginny's old Firebolt was currently residing there), he made his way to the very back and found the brooms he was looking for.

The Cleansweep 5 pair was slightly quieter than the others in the shed. They had aged and were well over ten years old now, their magic slowly dissipating as they sat unmoving. Still, he knew they were happy to see him and feel his own magic once more. For a moment, his hand hovered over the broom that he knew to be his. Then, at the last second, he instead clasped his hand around the one that had belonged to Fred.

He had come here to get lost in memories, to feel as though his brother was still with him. What use was riding his own broom? He could do that any time, but perhaps if he rode Fred's, he would feel a little closer to his missing half. The broom hummed in his hand, and a soft grin grew on George's face. It was as though Fred was beside him, grinning back and getting ready for a round of practice flying.

With a whoop of uncommon joy, George jumped onto the broom and flew out of the shed (causing quite a few brooms to tumble onto the floor from the draft). He took to the skies as though it hadn't been a few months since he had ridden a broom and let out yet another rare sound as he soared above the now tiny speck of a shed.

George continued to laugh as he swooped up and down, side to side, twisting around himself as he let the wind carry away the constant burden of sadness he carried. If he closed his eyes (which he did), he could imagine he was flying in line with Fred, both of them grinning as they tried new stunts that would give them an edge in Quidditch the next time they played.

He realised then that although his brother had died, he still remained behind in memories and laughter. Wasn't that what he had been doing for so long? Bringing laughter to others via the things he made in the memory of Fred? Grinning from ear to ear, George turned the old broom down to the ground and attempted the rather dangerous manoeuvre of a Wronski Feint. He was having  _fun_  and that was absolutely marvelous.


	55. Green Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition  
> Prompt: Green Lantern (2011)

 

Luna Lovegood had always known that there was something strange about her. It was obvious in the way that she could see the Nargles and Wrackspurts. Even her father couldn't see them, but he believed her when she said they were real. They talked to her at times, telling her stories of things more wonderful than even magic. They told her about the stars, about the way that blobs of rock drifted through the world above the planet she and her family lived on.

She listened as her world was expanded beyond that of the Earth. When her letter from Hogwarts came, she almost wanted to refuse it. Magic was magic and everyone one who had it, knew about it. It wasn't special like the things her friends talked about. They told her about the council up in the sky that protected the universe. In Britain there was only the Wizengamot, which was hardly interesting.

In the sky there were so many different things that she could learn about. On Earth, there was magic. But she had no way of getting into space and following where the Nargles and Wrackspurts guided her, so for now she would go to Hogwarts and learn all she could there. She would learn the magic and she would learn the world. If the lessons grew tiresome, there was always the fabled Forbidden Forest that she could explore.

At Hogwarts, Luna was almost immediately given the nickname Loony Lovegood, but that was okay. She knew that to those who had no idea of the outside world, someone who could see beyond magic would be strange. To those around her, magic was the most amazing thing, it was what set them apart from the rest of the world.

Luna knew differently. Everyone had magic of some kind. Not everyone could see her friends. Not everyone could hear stories of worlds far away and know them to be true. One of her favourite classes at Hogwarts was that of Astronomy. Of course, she tended to ignore what her teacher said about the planets that they looked at.

Instead, Luna listened to the tales the Wrackspurts told her about the planets and the stories the Nargles told her about the inhabitants of those planets. It was very difficult writing essays for that subject and remembering to stay within the bounds of understanding that her teacher had. For if Luna wrote about the beings that she knew lived on Venus, the world would think her crazy indeed.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The war had come to Hogwarts. Death Eaters ran the school and they took great glee in punishing those that looked even slightly rebellious. Luna did her best for her housemates and friends. She helped them where she could, finding Murtlap Essence to aid healing, along with Dittany and learned various healing spells. She, along with a few others, kept the morale of the Hogwarts students relatively high as they continued to be tortured in their classes and detentions.

One night, as Luna was walking through the Forbidden Forest to say hello to the Thestrals and be away from the Dark aura that currently permeated the castle of Hogwarts, she heard the Wrackspurts begin to cry out in excitement. They danced in front of her, telling her to follow them if she wanted to help her human friends even more.

Never having ignored her friends before and seeing the Nargles in complete agreement with the Wrackspurts, Luna raced through the Forest as she followed the trail of light her friends left behind them. Eventually, she burst into a clearing and found a sphere of green light. Enraptured, Luna stepped closer, examining the globe from every angle.

Glancing at her friends as they urged her onwards, Luna stepped into the glow and immediately felt the difference as her magic was modified by whatever the glow was. She could feel the green glow rush through her body, she knew that if she wanted to, she could now see with her own eyes what her friends had told her about her entire life.

But as she turned her gaze back towards the darkened castle, Luna knew she couldn't leave yet. She had work to do. The green power inside her settled and she smiled slightly. She knew that there would be a period of waiting until she could finally set off exploring the universe, but that was okay. Until such a time that the Dark Lord Voldemort was defeated, Luna would stay within the walls of Hogwarts and help protect the students as she had done before. Only this time, she would be able to do it better.

No one noticed when Luna's healing spells took on a tinge of green, or when sometimes an almost transparent green shield would form between a student and a Death Eater. Luna remained quiet, she remained just as she always had been. She had never really been a target for the Death Eaters, despite being a known associate of Harry Potter. Luna Lovegood was merely the crazy girl who believed in creatures that didn't exist. What harm could she do?

They learned that she could do quite a bit of harm when the Battle of Hogwarts finally commenced and Harry Potter returned to defeat Voldemort. Green shields, no longer transparent, sprung up in between Death Eaters and their targets, reflecting the deadly spells they had cast back towards them.

No Death Eater was safe from her devastating green power as it continued to shelter those in need. There was no escape once Voldemort fell and green tendrils sought out all those with darkness in their hearts that had been acted upon with glee. Across the grounds of Hogwarts, Death Eaters fell and Luna smiled.

She could leave now, she thought as she felt the last tendril of green magic return to her. Turning her face towards the dark night sky with all its twinkling stars, Luna felt the green magic inside of her swirl excitedly. Glancing to her side, she could see the Nargles and Wrackspurts already shooting off into space, knowing she would follow them.

With a grin and a delighted laugh, Luna Lovegood let the green magic inside of her rise up and take over. It lifted her off the ground and sped her towards her next adventure. Finally, she would be able to see the things she had only been able to dream about. The universe was hers to explore and protect.


	56. Obsession Beyond Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: [Character] Tom Riddle  
> Requirement: Love Conquers All  
> Beta: Magi Silverwolf

The boy was beautiful, she thought. She knew that he would never consider her but, then again, there was always hope. There were rumours circulating the school that Tom Riddle was not a pureblood. Maybe he could find it in himself to stoop and meet her at her level. But there were other rumours going through Hogwarts. Rumours that were completely true for once and the bane of her existence.

She could have gone forever without Olive Hornby finding out about her crush on the suave Slytherin Tom Riddle. It had been enough when Olive bullied her mercilessly about her glasses, but this? This hurt far more than someone thinking her glasses were ugly. This was attacking the emotions that belonged to her and only to her. It should have been something kept safe and hidden until such a time as she was sure that it was safe to reveal.

Myrtle Warren was sure now that Tom Riddle would pay no attention to her. Not now that the school knew that she loved him. Not now that the eyes of the school would be on his reaction and he couldn’t afford to break his mask of uncaring just because her feelings were in jeopardy. Myrtle could see behind the mask; she knew that behind it was a boy just like her. He was scared of being bullied and everyone knew that if you were anything but powerful or a pureblood in Slytherin House, you were sure to become the House’s lackey.

So Myrtle hid instead. She hid in bathrooms, in abandoned classrooms and in broom closets. She found many hidden places within Hogwarts where she could stay out of the public eye and avoid Olive Hornby’s horrid bullying. As she hid, she watched. She watched as Tom Riddle grew more and more agitated. She watched as he continued to rise in power within Slytherin House and how the rumours regarding his pedigree died down into non-existence.

She hid, and watched, and waited. At some point, she knew, Tom would be ready for her. Until then, she would stay in the background and wait. She would let him come to her. She knew he knew she loved him; it was rather impossible not to know now thanks to Olive’s big mouth and cruel nature that caused her to invade Myrtle’s diary.

Myrtle Warren would love Tom Riddle until Tom Riddle could love himself. She would love him past that. She would give Tom enough love that even if he never loved her, there would be enough love in their lives just from her. She would make sure that Tom Riddle wanted for nothing. She would love him until she died and maybe after that. Love was the most powerful magic in the world, and she knew that if she just loved Tom Riddle enough, he could be happy. They could be happy together and there would be no more horrid Olive Hornby.

Myrtle sniffled a little bit as she remembered Olive’s latest passing remark. It had been about her glasses again and Myrtle found herself unable to handle it today. So she ran and hid in the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. There weren’t many who went to the second floor bathrooms as it was often easier to go to the third or first floor bathrooms.

Suddenly, she heard the door open and she stilled, trying to hold in the sobs she had been letting out previously. She waited for them to leave, listening with an intent ear to see which cubicle they went into and whether or not she would be able to sneak out while they were busy. But they didn’t go into any cubicle. Instead they started talking. Or, at least, it sounded like talking. Myrtle couldn’t understand what they were saying. The noises the person was making sounded like a bunch of hisses to her.

Curiosity got the better of her and she also wanted to tell this person to leave her in peace, so she could finish crying before heading to Transfiguration. She stopped when she exited and saw who had entered the bathroom.

“Tom,” she whispered and Tom Riddle whirled around to face her, shock clear on his face.

Myrtle wondered what he was doing in the girl’s bathroom and blushed as the thought that he might have come in here for her, to comfort her after Olive’s words crossed her mind. Tom sneered at her. 

“Warren,” he said before turning back to the sink he was standing in front of and continuing to hiss. Myrtle watched in fascination as the sink sank into the ground and left a hole in the middle of the rotunda of sinks.

Carefully, she stepped forward, not noticing Tom’s closed eyes or how he had stepped back slightly. She was just about to peer into the hole when a giant  _ something _ burst out and yellow eyes fell on her. She didn’t even have time to scream as the deadly gaze of a basilisk slew her where she stood.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Years later, almost fifty by her reckoning, a girl came into the bathroom and hissed the same language she had heard before. She watched her, comparing her to the boy she had known before and finding the girl lacking. When Harry who reminded her so much of her Tom asked her how she died, well, she didn’t tell him the whole truth. She didn’t want to get Tom in trouble after all.

While she haunted the bathroom she had died in, Myrtle had given great thought to her death. She knew why Tom had killed her; he couldn’t afford attachments and had fallen for her so much he couldn’t bear it anymore. That was okay though, she forgave him for that ages ago. Love was powerful, but it was also scary.

Myrtle couldn’t blame Tom Riddle for being scared of love. She had been scared as well. When Tom next appeared in her bathroom, Myrtle would tell him and then she would pass on. She had remained a ghost just so that she could one day tell Tom that he was forgiven. That she loved him just as much as she always had.

_ ‘Til death do us part _ , she thought wryly. Yes, Myrtle was a ghost and yes, she still loved her killer. But what was love if not all-consuming? How could she possibly hold any hate in her heart for the same person she loved with all of it? She learned of Tom’s death later, after Hogwarts had been rebuilt from the battle that she had taken no interest in. With one final wail, she left Hogwarts and set off for the afterlife. Perhaps there, she could let Tom Riddle know she still loved him.


	57. Baron Theodore Nott Jr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition  
> Prompt: A relationship of any sort between a ghost and a human.

One of the hardest things for the Muggle-borns that attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to wrap their heads around (besides the fact that magic is real), is the existence of ghosts. Within the castle of Hogwarts, there are plenty of ghosts that wander through the halls and interact with whomever they may come across during their wanderings.

Some ghosts are quiet and will vanish upon interaction such as the Grey Lady. Peeves the Poltergeist is not so much a ghost per say but is within the category of supernatural and finds enjoyment in playing jokes on the inhabitants of Hogwarts. There are those that belong to the Headless Hunt, who ride their ghostly horses through the corridors of Hogwarts as they hunt down the heads they have detached from their bodies. The sight is not one easily forgotten and has fuelled many a nightmare.

There are the kind ghosts, who will aid a lost student should that student think to ask. Eventually, the ghosts become as normal as the moving and thinking portraits. They are merely a part of the crazy life that living at Hogwarts creates. It is not considered polite to ask how a ghost died, the memory is usually one they do not wish to think on for any period of time. Of course, the ghost of Gryffindor will tell anyone interested about how close he came to being able to join the Headless Hunt. But there is always the exception to the rule.

Perhaps the most famous ghost to haunt the halls of Hogwarts is one known as Moaning Myrtle. She was a relatively young ghost compared to the others that floated around the castle, only being about fifty. She remained in the location of her death and her high strung teenage emotions gained her the moniker of Moaning Myrtle. The others ghosts tried to rein her in but had little success.

If a student of Hogwarts was asked who they would call the scariest ghost they had encountered during their tenure in the school, they would undoubtedly answer with The Bloody Baron. At least, most of them would. For one, The Bloody Baron was an avenger and protector. There was nothing scary about The Bloody Baron to them.

The Bloody Baron was aptly named as his ghostly form showed the blood that had been spilled upon his death. It was this fact that made the students wary of him, even those of the House he had claimed as his own - Slytherin. The Bloody Baron took it upon himself to teach the young upstarts in his House how to behave as a baron should and held nightly classes that were compulsory if you didn't want to end up walking through the cold ghostly figure several times the next day.

As one, the Slytherin House detested the lessons and would much prefer to merely curl up in the common room and work on their homework or enjoy a little down time with their friends and allies. One Slytherin quite enjoyed the lessons however, and even sought out The Bloody Baron when he was free to continue the lessons without the rest of his House present.

Theodore Nott Jr. was a quiet Slytherin. He watched, learned, and said very little but when he did speak, it was with absolute authority. The Bloody Baron had taught him that skill and he felt forever indebted to the ghost. Within Hogwarts, Theodore was almost like a ghost himself, staying in the shadows until he deemed it wise to exit and share his observations.

The other Slytherins started calling him the second ghost of Slytherin House and Theodore was fine with that. He was quite happy to stay in the shadows, unseen and unnoticed until such a time as he wanted to be seen and noticed. He knew the power of being invisible in a crowded room. He knew how to make the people in a room to spill their secrets and then forget that they had done so.

The Bloody Baron had taught him this skill as well. At night, when Theodore was unable to sleep, he wandered the corridors of Hogwarts with The Bloody Baron as company. Peeves the Poltergeist was incredibly wary of The Bloody Baron and thus never bothered the young boy as he wandered. The Bloody Baron kept an eye out for any prefects or professors that might be patrolling the corridors and Theodore was never seen.

Sometimes, The Bloody Baron wouldn't warn Theodore of the presence of another nearby. Instead, he would wait and see what Theodore would do when faced with a situation of possible capture. Every time, Theodore evaded whoever might be around the corner and The Bloody Baron would feel pride swell in his long dead chest. He had taught this young one well.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The castle was shaking as deadly spells hit the walls as they missed their target. Coloured flashes of light lit up the air in the halls of Hogwarts as The Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters fought each other in a last stand. Adults ran from fight to fight, protecting children who were determined to also protect the castle that was their home for most of the year.

It was utter chaos, the kind of chaos that it was easy to fade away in. No one paid any attention to the nook in one of the many halls of Hogwarts. No one saw the boy standing there and watching the fighting with wide eyes. They did not see the silvery form of a ghost hovering protectively by the boy, warning him when an enemy came near.

Theodore watched as those he had shared a home with for so many years rushed past to find the fighting. He watched the Death Eaters that he was supposed to be fighting alongside also ran past his place, sadistic grins on their faces as they destroyed the castle around them and cast deadly curses at whoever they encountered.

When the Dark Lord called a ceasefire, Theodore finally stepped out of his nook and made his way back to the Slytherin common room. That was where the Slytherins would be holing up and recovering their strength. Or at least, that had been the hastily created plan when the news that the Dark Lord was making his move reached them.

The Bloody Baron floated next to him and Theodore took strength from his tutors presence. It was because of the ghost floating beside him that he could ignore the faces he recognised staring blankly ahead as they lay where they had fallen. He moved past the students he had once observed living as they lay in death.

Upon arrival at his common room, Theodore took a deep breath and gathered all the things The Bloody Baron had taught him. With a single word, the entrance to the common room opened and Baron Theodore Nott entered to take charge of the chaotic situation. There was a war happening outside, even if it was now static as both sides waited for the other's play. Theodore had been watching. He had knowledge and he had the skills he had been taught since he had been eleven by a baron who had also been involved in a war.

Slytherin House would emerge as unscathed as they could under the guidance of quiet, unassuming Theodore Nott. Apprentice to their House ghost; The Bloody Baron. There was no need for loud bluster when calm confidence did the job better. A lesson learned by many who declared him unfit to take part in the small war council Slytherin House had formed.

As Theodore calmly tore his opposers to shreds and took charge of the war council, The Bloody Baron floated off to the side and nodded in approval. Theodore Nott Jr. would go far in life with the lessons he had learned from the old ghost.


	58. Lily and Petunia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition  
> Prompt: Lily Evans/Potter

Lily and her sister often pretended that they were exploring strange and dangerous worlds. They would have such fun running around the park and fighting off the imaginary enemies of the day. Their mother told them stories of magic, chivalry and knights. These stories sparked the imagination of the two girls and they gleefully reenacted them whenever they were bored.

At night, Lily and Petunia would sometimes crawl under the same blanket and tell stories of their own. They would craft worlds of adventure, and play in them during the day. It changed when they met someone new who revealed why their games were so real to them. Lily had jumped from the swing, ready to attack the ogre that was waiting at the base of the tower (swing) and a boy had burst out of the bushes proclaiming her to be a witch.

Petunia had of course scoffed at his declaration but Lily had given it a bit more thought. She had noticed that strange things happened around her and thought maybe, just maybe, the boy was telling the truth. That night, the two sisters crawled under a blanket and discussed the new world that might actually exist.

They spent hours the next day exploring the powers that Lily now knew she had. They ran around the park and giggled as flowers sprouted where there had been none before. Lily tried to teach Petunia how to access the magic but had no luck. The next time they saw the boy--Severus Snape, as they now knew him to be called--he explained that Petunia had no magic of her own. That it was only Lily who had been granted the powers of magic wielding.

Still, Lily and Petunia didn’t let that stop them from playing with Lily’s magic. How amazing was it that one of them could actually levitate rocks and throw them at the beasties that tried to overtake their forts? And then the letter came and Lily went away to Scotland, leaving Petunia in a world with no magic.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Lily was flush with excitement as she watched Platform Nine and Three-Quarters grow closer through the train’s windows. She had never been away from her family for so long and she missed her sister and parents. She couldn’t wait to tell Petunia all the things she had learned in the few months she had been away. 

Some of her fellow Gryffindors had shown her the owl order service, that meant she could order things from wizarding shops without going to Diagon Alley. Her parents had given her a small allowance in wizard currency and she used that to order the perfect gift for her sister for Christmas. She couldn’t wait until Petunia saw it!

But that night, when she crawled under Petunia’s covers to tell all the fantastic stories she had, it was to find Petunia scoffing at her fantastical imagination. Lily didn’t understand what had happened to her sister that she shared everything with ever since they had been young. She left Petunia’s bed quietly and returned to her own, trying to shove the sadness from Petunia’s rejection to the back of her mind.

The next day, Lily asked her parents if they knew why Petunia wouldn’t listen to her. They had hugged her and said that Petunia had spent too long without magic in her life. It was one thing to love it when you had someone to share it with, it was another to love it when it took your sister away from you.

That night, Lily had determinedly stayed in Petunia’s bed and promised her that even if she was away for most of the year, she would never forget her favourite sister. Petunia had chuckled slightly at that. “I’m your only sister,” she said.

“Yes, and that means that you’re my favourite,” Lily said proudly, snuggling closer to her sister. They slept side by side for the rest of the Christmas holidays and spent almost every waking moment together until Lily had to once more go to Scotland and continue her magical education.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

That was how most school breaks were spent after that. Lily would come home and she and Petunia would spend all their time together. They would go out to the park and continue defending the giant tree there that become a massive fortress in their imagination. At least, they did until they decided they were far too old to be defending tree forts and instead they went to the park to giggle over boys away from their parents.

Lily told Petunia all about the boy that would not stop asking her out and Petunia rambled about the boy she sometimes saw in the school library. They laughed over the antics of James Potter and his little gang of friends, giggled over Petunia’s reluctance to approach one Gerald White. Sometimes they would imagine what their life would be like if they actually dated the boys that captured their attention.

Sometimes, boy talk would be suspended due to the presence of an actual boy. Severus Snape was a common fixture in their gatherings, Petunia knew that it was only due to Lily that the rude boy actually tolerated her. She would insist that he didn’t show up to their days in the park except she knew that Lily liked him and she didn’t want to make her sister choose which one to spend time with.

Until Severus decided to insult her directly while Lily had run home quickly to see if their parents could organise a picnic. “Even though you’re her sister, you are far below Lily. The only reason she still sticks beside you is because otherwise your parents would be disappointed in her. She has magic, and you have nothing.”

“She is my sister,” Petunia hissed backed, “and she loves me.”

“Does she?” Severus rose an eyebrow in question, “Then answer me this,  _ Petunia _ , why is it that she allows me here when she sees me all the time at Hogwarts and she only sees you during the holidays? Surely, she would prefer to spend this time only with a sister she rarely sees? 

“Unless, of course, she merely spends time with you because of your parents and uses me as a buffer so that she can feel free to sometimes ignore you. Why, she’s even now left us alone. Perhaps she grew too tired of your presence and had to create a reason to leave.”

“That’s not true!”

“Are you sure?”

The problem was, Petunia couldn’t be sure. She rarely saw her sister and she could have changed so much while she went to her school of magic. Petunia only saw Lily during the holidays, what if Lily was pretending during those times? 

Afraid to ask and afraid to think, Petunia shoved the whole thing to the back of her mind where it would fester and rot. When Lily once more went off to school and left Petunia behind, she wondered if Lily was even now laughing at how bland her sister was. After all, what did Petunia have?

She had no magic, she was an ordinary student with ordinary grades in school. There was nothing special about Petunia. Not like there was with Lily. Lily was the special one. And Severus was right, why did Lily spend time with Severus outside of school when she practically lived with him when she was at school?

The next time Lily came home, it was to find Petunia completely shutting her out. The insecurities she had been carrying for so long had been exacerbated by Severus’ wounds and grown exponentially. They had grown into an intense jealousy and when Lily tried to crawl under the same covers and tell her stories, Petunia feigned sleep.

When Lily wrote to their parents and announced she was dating a boy, Petunia went out and picked the first boy she saw and declared him hers. There was nothing special about Petunia Evans, but she would not let Lily have all the things that she could also have. If Lily had a boyfriend, so would Petunia.

She just wished she had picked someone better than Vernon Dursley. For when Lily announced her engagement, well, what was Petunia to do? There was no choice in her mind, she had to get married to her boyfriend as well. And so, Petunia Evans became Petunia Dursley and she quite happily ignored Lily’s wedding invite. She was far too busy living her own, normal, life.   
  



	59. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: [Event] Attending a funeral  
> Beta: Aya Diefair

There were two freshly dug graves in the earth between them, the bodies of their parents separating the sisters from each other. It had been years since the Evans sisters had seen one another, longer since they had been comfortable in the other's presence. Now they stood in the same place for the same reason, united in the loss of their parents.

Lily had been stunned when she learned of the death of her mother and father. She had thought them safe from the current war in wizarding Britain. And they were, but that didn't mean they were safe from other Muggles. So caught up in the magical war had Lily been, she had forgotten that there were dangers in the world other than You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters.

James, her husband, stood next to her and held her hand. Unconsciously, her other hand drifted to her stomach and rested there, her parents would never see their grandchild. Across from her, she noticed Petunia also clasping the hand of her own husband and holding her stomach. How far apart must they have grown for Lily to not know the name of her own sister's husband and whether or not said sister was pregnant?

She watched her sister, silently wishing her well and that the fate of their parents did not also fall on Petunia. 'Tuney would be safe from You-Know-Who, but would she be safe from other Muggles? Petunia glanced at Lily and their eyes locked. Lily smiled hesitantly and received a nod in return before Petunia turned away and left the graveyard.

Lily watched her go with one thought echoing through her mind,  _be safe_. When her sister had vanished, Lily sent one more look at the caskets holding her parents. "I love you," she whispered to them, before walking away with James at her side. They would get the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade and then Albus would take them to the safe house in Godric's Hollow.

It was the last time the Evans sisters would see each other.


	60. How to Stop Constant Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: [Spell] Silencio  
> Beta: Aya Diefair

They were yelling again. They were always yelling nowadays. She could hear their voices all the way down by the lake and she knew that they would be in the highest tower. They thought that by being far away from everyone else, it meant that no one would know they were fighting. Needless to say, their logic was flawed. Helga smiled gently at the two children next to her, both of them glancing up at the tower in slight fear.

"It's alright, they're simply doing what they do best. They'll calm down soon." They had  _better_  calm down soon. It was almost time for dinner and if those two were still fighting, the whole castle would be on edge.

Just as she thought that, the blessed sound of silence descended onto the grounds of Hogwarts Castle. "There, see? Nothing to worry about, the two idiots have solved their most recent problem with each other."

And indeed, Godric and Salazar remained silent for the rest of the day. Although, when Helga gingerly inquired as to what the most recent argument had been about, the two of them had merely glared at each other and stalked away from her. Helga merely shook her head, she would never understand the friendship that those two had.

They constantly fought with each other and yet there were times when they worked so cohesively that it was almost inconceivable to think they ever fought. The design for the castle they currently stayed in was all Godric and Salazar, as were the defenses they created. There would be no attackers able to withstand the combined force of the two warriors.

Of course, the silence didn't last. A week later, shouting was once more heard drifting out from the highest tower and onto the grounds of Hogwarts. Helga sighed but continued to pluck the yarrow from her herb garden. Eventually, they would either come to an agreement or tire themselves out too much to continue yelling.

Suddenly, Helga straightened and cocked her head. Silence. She looked up at the tower in surprise. The yelling had only lasted for a few moments before it had stopped. Such a thing was unheard of! The arguments between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were legendary for their longevity. Still, Helga wasn't about to complain about the unusually short yelling period. She much preferred to listen to birds singing than two grown men shouting at each other for whatever ridiculous reason.

At dinner that day, Helga noticed that Godric and Salazar were still glaring daggers at each other. She wondered what could possibly have already made them hate the other so soon after their latest argument. Glancing to her left to ask Rowena if she knew, Helga noticed that her companion seemed rather pleased with herself.

Intrigued, Helga decided to ignore the strange behaviour of the two men and instead asked, "What has you so pleased?"

"I will no longer receive headaches from those two dolts arguing day and night. And nor will you, my friend."

Helga smiled, it was good news indeed that Rowena had found a way to prevent their headaches. The potion she currently brewed for them was rather annoying to both brew and drink. "How, may I ask, did you achieve such a miracle?"

"I have created a spell for silence. Surely you noticed that they ceased their arguing rather quickly today?"

"I did indeed notice that. It was your doing?"

Rowena dipped her head, "Yes. They were interrupting my scrying and I found myself quite unable to concentrate."

Helga gazed contemplatively at Godric and Salazar. "You must teach me this spell," she mused as she watched the two try to continue their argument through vicious gestures.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The spell was a simple one and Helga quickly mastered it. As of yet, she hadn't had a reason to use it on the two men it had been created for but she knew that a time would eventually come. They were, after all, still arguing frequently. It was merely the fact that Rowena was generally closer to them when they argued and thus was the one to perform the spell.

It seemed that the time had arrived when, as Helga was calmly wandering the corridors, she encountered a fuming Salazar and Godric. The both of them were clearly on their way to the highest tower so that they could start shouting in earnest. So worked up were they, they stormed past Helga without even noticing her, both of them obviously struggling to keep in their anger.

Helga sighed softly and followed them. As soon as the two men reached their designated arguing spot, their voices rose in tandem and the shouting began. Just as soon as it started, it was forcefully put to a stop by one rather annoyed witch.

" _Silencio_."

As one, the two turned to stare at her, clearly not having expected such a quick death to their argument. Helga twirled her wand nonchalantly, "Oh yes, I know how to silence the two of you. Did you think Rowena was the only one who knew her spell? Now then, I am going to release the spell and the both of you will sit down like the civilised people you are and  _talk_  about what's bothering you. If I hear even the slightest raise in volume, I won't hesitate to silence you two again. Clear?"

Reluctantly, they nodded and Helga removed the spell, conjuring up two chairs for them to sit on after she did so. "Well? Get on with it!"

Jolted into action, Godric and Salazar quickly sat down and started to glare at each other. "You are insisting that we acquire fewer House Elves than we need," Godric gritted out.

"Oh am I now? Well perhaps that's because I don't need a House Elf to make my bed every morning and do that task myself."

"With the amount of clothes you go through, that hardly makes a difference!"

"Very rich, coming from the man that jumps into puddles of mud every time he practises weaponry!"

"Ahem," Helga cleared her throat meaningfully and the two quickly subsided. "Better. If your argument is about House Elves, I should let you know that Rowena already calculated and acquired the exact amount we will need. Thus, your argument is pointless."

Helga turned to leave but glanced back at the two stunned men, "For making me come up here and deal with you two, I think a bit of silence is in order, hmm?  _Silencio_."

Humming, Helga walked down the many stairs to return to her wandering. The men she left behind glared at the space she had been and then each other, unable to speak. The spell would wear off eventually, they knew, but until then there wasn't all that much for them to do. With a silent sigh, Salazar flicked his wand and arched an inquiring eyebrow at Godric who nodded and they began setting up the chess set that Salazar had summoned, in complete and utter silence.


	61. The Usefulness of Muggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition  
> Prompt: Write about a character winning the lottery and changing their identity because of it.

It had originally been a joke between friends. A way of showing the others that watched them with an eagle eye that yes, they could get along with Muggles. He hadn't expected anything to happen because of it. He knew that the chances of choosing several numbers that aligned with other numbers were very low. And yet, a few weeks later, he went into the store where he had bought the small piece of paper, scanned said piece of paper and was told that he was now the holder of several million Muggle pounds.

Draco was speechless. Not because of how much money he now had. He was a Malfoy. He was used to money. But because it was all Muggle, it was weird to have. He still didn't know all that much about Muggles, although he had taken Muggle Studies in eighth year. He knew how to dress properly when he ventured out into the Muggle world, but what was he supposed to do with all the Muggle money he now possessed?

Gringotts, thankfully, was able to acquire the Muggle money that the Muggles had sent him on yet another little bit of paper and it was now sitting in his vault. Still Muggle and absolutely useless to him. He pondered the situation every day, trying to figure out what he was going to do with the stack of paper that was co-existing with his Galleons, Sickles and Knuts.

A comment from Pansy sparked an idea in his mind. "Ugh," she moaned as she collapsed in one of the plush chairs in one of the many Malfoy sitting rooms. "I wish we didn't have to go out every day and pretend that everything's fine. Why can't we just live like normal people? Just because our parents followed the Dark Lord willingly, doesn't mean that we did!"

It was a normal topic to complain about in the small circle of Slytherins. They hadn't particularly wanted to join the Dark Lord but they hadn't had a choice. If they hadn't joined, either they or their families would be dead. Now they were being punished for protecting that which they cared about.

Draco's mind drifted to the Muggle money sitting in his vault. The Muggles didn't know anything about the wizarding war or about the Dark Lord. They wouldn't give him the evil eye purely because of a brand he had been forced to take. It had been freeing just for the few moments the group had wandered through the Muggle world already. What if he could stay there indefinitely?

After all, what was there left for him in the wizarding world? The Malfoy name was in the dust. Everyone hated him. He would have no chance at getting any type of job and no way would the Ministry allow him to walk through their halls without a subtle guard watching his every move. He glanced over at Pansy and thought about their friendship.

The two of them had been together since they were children, always by the other's side and ready to lend a hand. It was the same with Blaise and Theo. The four of them had been a group that looked after each other and always backed the others when they made a play in the Slytherin hierarchy system. All four of them were struggling in the new wizarding world. All four of them had been branded as Death Eater scum.

"What would you say if I thought I had a way of making us vanish?" He said slowly, watching Pansy's face for any tells that this was a bad idea.

Instead, Pansy sat up straight and looked directly into his eyes, "I would say that that would be brilliant. What are you thinking, Draco?"

"Well, as you know, I have a rather large amount of useless paper taking up space in my vault. It wouldn't be useless if we left the wizarding world and instead took up residence among the Muggles."

Pansy thought for a moment. "We would have to change our names. There aren't many Malfoys or Parkinsons around anymore."

"You're right. I was thinking of bringing along Blaise and Theo as well."

"They would certainly be happy to get away from all the idiots currently flocking around them. And Theo knows a lot more about Muggle life than the rest of us."

"What do you say, Pansy? Ready for an adventure into the realm of Muggles?"

"I think so, Draco. I think so."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"You think this will work?" Blaise asked as they got ready to leave the only home they had known.

"The alternative is to stay here and be hated for the rest of our lives," Theo pointed out and Blaise nodded in agreement. "It can't get any worse than that."

"I don't see why we can't stay in London," Pansy sulked from the chair in the corner and the three boys rolled their eyes.

"You know why, Pans. It's too close to Diagon Alley and you know we'd be tempted to return."

"I know that, but still. I know London. What even is the Lakes District?"

Blaise shrugged, "I assume it's a place that has rather a lot of lakes."

Pansy glared at her friend and threw a cushion at him, "Whatever, Blaise Zander. Why the Zander?"

"It's sounds cool. And it reminds me of Zabini, I may be changing but that doesn't mean I can't be proud of my family."

In fact, all four of them had kept their first names and the first letter of their last names. It was a way to honour the lives that their parents had given them even as they shed those lives. Draco had decided to become Draco Malloney, Pansy would now be known as Pansy Peterson and Theo had chosen Theodore Nestor.

It was their last night as the people they had been born as. They had decided to stay at Draco's and leave in the morning. Draco had used the last of the Malfoy's considerably lessened fortune to get them new identities via Gringotts that the Ministry could not use to track them down. His Muggle paper had been used to purchase a house in the Lakes District. That was where the four of them were headed the next day.

They would be free from the suspicious looks constantly directed towards them whenever they went outside. They would no longer feel shame for protecting their families and taking the Dark Mark. They would be free to pursue whatever they wanted and there was no one that could stop them. Never before had they been so grateful for a joke. It was that joke which allowed them to finally escape the hell their lives had become. Who knew Muggles could be so useful?


	62. The Unseen Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition and the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition  
> Prompts: [Negative Pairing] Professor Dumbledore/Professor Sprout, Saw (2004), include death, murder, crows or ravens  
> Additional Requirement: Includes a letter or a note   
> Beta: Aya Diefair  
> Notes: AU. Dumbledore is a tad bit more unhinged than in canon and he and Grindelwald went further in their quest for the Greater Good.

Pomona Sprout woke up with a start. She recognised the feeling of being stunned and then jolted back back into consciousness with a spell. The fuzz in her mind slowly receded and she took in her surroundings. From what she could see in the semi-darkness, she was sitting on the floor of an abandoned potions lab. She could see the faint shape of a cauldron and there were shelves lining every wall, jars littered sparsely on them.

Uncomfortable with her current position, Pomona shifted and thus found that she had been bound in place via a chain. It lead to a heavy ring set in the floor of the lab and she could see no obvious lock. Concerned, but not overly so, Pomona tugged the chain experimentally and found that it had little slack. Sighing to herself, Pomona reached for her wand safely tucked away in its holster. Only to freeze when her hand met empty leather.

Her wand was gone and she had no prowess in wandless magic. She was trapped. She closed her eyes in despair. She had thought herself safe, everyone had. The Dark Lord Voldemort had been vanquished two years ago by baby Harry Potter and his followers had either been sent to Azkaban or faded into the shadows. A noise from across the room made her jump and she peered into the darkness carefully.

"Who's there?" Pomona called out, her voice reverberating around the walls. There was another groan before a familiar voice spoke.

"Pomona?" It was Albus. Pomona sighed in relief, Albus would be able to help her, he was capable of wandless magic.

"It's me, Albus. Do you know what's going on?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear. It's dreadfully dark in here though, how about a little light, hmm?  _Lumos_."

A small globe of light burst into existence and lit up the room, confirming Pomona's suspicion that they were in a potions lab. She could now see Albus and he was chained just as she was. Between them was the cauldron she had seen, rusted from disuse and age. There was no door to the lab, or at least not a visible one. The ingredients spotted around on the shelves were dusty and she knew they had been sitting there for several years without movement. She wondered absently if any of the contents in the jars were still viable.

A rattling caught her attention and she saw Albus pulling the chain attaching him via ankle to the stone floor. It seemed to be just as solid as hers, the only new things in the old potions lab apparently. Albus frowned and waved his hand over the link around his ankle, " _Alohomora_."

Nothing happened. Albus repeated the gesture and words with more force and still there was no result. A crack sounded and they both looked up to see two pieces of parchment falling to the ground in front of each of them. Pomona stared at the parchment in front of her for a few seconds before hesitantly reaching out and picking it up.

_If you want to be free, kill your companion_

She gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth as she stared at the note she had dropped in horror. Kill Albus? She couldn't! Even if Albus wasn't a dear friend of hers, she was no murderer, not even if it was to escape an inescapable room. Albus hummed thoughtfully and Pomona looked up at him. He was reading his own piece of parchment and looking around the room.

"It seems I have been challenged to find a way out of this lab." Pomona was confused. A way out? Had they received different notes? Was it only her that had been told to kill the other? Surely, Albus would have said something if he had read the same words she had.

She glanced at the piece of parchment again, wondering who had sent it. As she looked around the room, only one name came to mind. Severus Snape. Accused of being a Death Eater, a servant of Voldemort and only acquitted due to Albus' interference. He was the sort of person that would have an old potions lab. Who knew, they could even be in a lab that Severus had used while he had been working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and then abandoned when the Dark Lord had been defeated.

"Pomona?" Albus was peering at her in concern. "Are you alright?"

Pomona opened her mouth several times without successfully saying anything before finally she croaked out, "I've been told to kill you."

"I see. Well, that would certainly be one way to get out of this place. After all, death is but the next great adventure." Albus' eyes twinkled at her as Pomona gaped in shock.

"You… You  _want_  me to kill you? Albus, I can't!"

"I don't see why not, I have no fear of death and you have been given a way to leave this place safely. The only price being my life."

Pomona shook her head furiously. "No, I refuse! And even if I didn't, how would I kill you without my wand?"

Another crack sounded and suddenly there was a dagger lying innocently in front of her, gleaming in the bright light from Albus' spell. "It would appear you have your answer."

There was something in his voice that made Pomona observe Albus more carefully. He was relaxed, she noted. He hadn't tried to get out of his chain after the two spells had failed, he hadn't moved in the limited range offered by the chain to look for exits. He sat against the wall and watched her. There was a gleam in his eyes, so unlike his usual twinkle. There was a sensation of sinister glee being shown through that gleam, his lips kept twitching as though he wanted to smile.

A dreadful thought crashed down on her and Albus must have noticed it as her face changed into one of shocked horror as she stared at him. His lips allowed themselves to curl up into a cruel smirk, "You should have killed me," he said.

Another crack sounded and the dagger in front of her found itself in his open hand. The chain connecting him to the floor vanished as though it was never there. Albus stalked forward and Pomona found herself scrabbling backwards, pressing herself close to the wall in a vain attempt to get away from the man she thought she had known.

Albus chuckled, "You can't get away from me, dear Professor Sprout. I gave you a chance to prevent this, I gave you a chance to stop me. You see, ever since Tom disappeared, I've found myself rather bored. I started reminiscing on the old days when Gellert and I would discuss plans for the future, we had quite a bit of fun with the local livestock. The thought occurred to me, we never made it past livestock. So I decided to continue our research.

"You've been ever so helpful. I always wondered if the urge to survive would be enough to make an innocent kill someone else in cold blood. I will, of course, have to repeat this experiment to have a comprehensive set of data, but you have completed your part. Goodbye, Pomona."

The dagger buried itself in the Herbology Professor's heart and Pomona Sprout died staring at the man that she had trusted. Albus hummed in satisfaction and settled himself back against the wall, the chain coming into existence once more and wrapping itself around his leg. Soon enough, Severus would arrive in a rush, summoned by a piece of parchment that urged him to save his colleagues.

Albus would look suitably distraught and spin a tale of Pomona sacrificing herself as she couldn't bear killing another and hoped that Albus would find a way out. There would be a hunt for the one who had grabbed the two members of Hogwarts staff but the trail would lead nowhere. Only Albus himself and House Elves sworn to silence knew the truth.

There would be no obstacles in his research. He stared at the steadily cooling body of his Herbology Professor and started thinking about who he might be able to get to replace her. He couldn't leave the children without a Herbology Professor, after all.


	63. Death of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition  
> Prompt: [Colour] Birthstone colour of your main character (Harry Potter, ruby)  
> Beta: Aya Diefair  
> Warning: There is a numbness to life and death in this story with the main character uncaring if he lives or dies, along with a fascination of blood.

There are times when young Harry Potter is thrust into his cupboard under the stairs after his family has decided he has done enough damage. Often, those times are accompanied by a reminder of the boy’s place in the Dursley’s household. With little to do, Harry would stare at the red fluid slowly oozing out of whatever injury he had just been given. It fascinated him. The blood was what kept him alive. And yet, his own family insists on trying to rid him of it by continuously causing injuries to his person.

Harry doesn’t quite understand yet why his family are so determined to keep him downtrodden and making sure he never does anything better than Dudley, but he does know that if they continue to harm him, he will very soon die. He ponders that sometimes, wonders if perhaps death wouldn’t be so bad. At least in death he wouldn’t have to clean the Dursley’s house or make their meals while he is given a bit of dry toast and maybe a glass of water.

But there’s never any real way of making them stop and Harry has no intention to send himself into the afterlife. He will go if they make him but otherwise he will continue to live under their roof and be their little slave. He tries to make friends with the neighbourhood children hoping they would provide entertainment other than sitting in his cupboard and watching his body patch itself up. The plan, of course, didn’t work as Dudley harassed anyone near Harry and scared the children off while his Aunt and Uncle warned the parents that Harry was a young delinquent that shouldn’t be anywhere near their children.

He was the most feared child in all of Little Whinging even though he had done nothing to support that rumour. If anything, it should be Dudley who was the child everyone feared. But no, Dudley was an angel to all that mattered and bullied those that wouldn’t stand up for themselves.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Harry Potter was eleven now. He was on a train to a school of magic and he wondered what that meant. He knew now why his family had been so hateful towards him his whole life. He knew that they were afraid of the magic he apparently possessed. He shared the train compartment with another boy, a redhead who offered to share his corn beef sandwiches. Harry refused the sandwich and instead shared the strange sweets he had bought from the trolley that had trundled down the carriage a few minutes ago.

He didn’t know too much about money but he knew that there had been a lot in the vault in the Wizarding bank he had gone to that was all his so he figured he had enough to buy sweets. And besides, he had never been allowed sweets at the Dursley’s so he was going to take advantage of it while he could. Soon though, he found that his stomach wasn’t very happy with his decision and he let Ron demolish the rest of the sweets he had bought.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  


Harry stared into the mirror as Quirrell stood next to him, urging him to get the stone. Harry didn’t know how to do that but as he watched, the reflection of him took a glittering red stone out of his pocket and put it back. He could feel a new weight in the same pocket and knew that somehow he had gained the famous philosopher’s stone. His mind whirled but he tried to pay attention to what Quirrell and Voldemort were saying. He tried to lie about what he saw in the mirror but his mind was so confused and muddled that he couldn’t fool the dark wizard. It was only by some weird quirk of magic that he managed to survive that day.

He pressed his hands to Quirrell's face and watched in horror as the man turned to stone before crumbling away, a dark shadow forming over the dust and streaming straight towards him. Harry could only yell in fright as the shade passed through him and away. He stumbled backwards, landing heavily on one of the stone steps that led into the round room that held the Mirror of Erised. 

His hand was bleeding and he stared at it, He was used to blood, had seen it many times in the darkness of his cupboard. Now he watched it once more, prodding at the cuts tentatively as they continued to ooze the red liquid.

“Huh,” he observed to himself. It was interesting to watch as the blood stopped flowing but could be forced to start again as he pressed the split folds of skin back together. It had always fascinated him and he had often passed the time in his cupboard by seeing how long it took for the blood to stop flowing as he pushed and prodded at whatever was bleeding. Harry could feel the lightheadedness start to creep up on him and gladly let himself fall into unconsciousness.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

When he woke, it was to find himself completely healed with only a bandage on his hand to signify he had been injured at all. Harry felt a slight stab of disappointment at that. He somewhat missed the simplicity of watching his body healing while he had been at Hogwarts. He had hoped that he would be able to actually see the process of magical healing but it seemed he wouldn’t. It was a pity, he thought, it had once been the only source of entertainment he could find.

Dumbledore was by his bed and he explained that it was due to his mother’s sacrifice when he was a baby that Quirrell had crumbled to dust and rubble when Harry touched him. His mother had loved him, Harry realised. That was a strange thought to him, he hadn’t had much experience with love. He wondered what it had been like.

It must have been nice, he thought. But it had also cost his mother her life and he wondered if she thought that had been a good thing. Was he worthy of her sacrifice? Harry Potter was a boy who cleaned his relatives house and was known as a delinquent in his neighborhood. He wasn’t good at school because he had been taught since he was young to never do better than Dudley. 

Still, what was done was done and he couldn’t change that. He started prodding at the bandage on his hand when Dumbledore left. It was soft and scratchy, weird. He’d never had a bandage before, he wasn’t good enough to deserve them. They were interesting, almost as much as blood was. The bandages kept blood in and helped the body heal itself by forcing inactivity in the place of the body that was harmed.

Harry thought he’d rather like to study them a bit more but then the two friends he had somehow made during the school year came bursting into the hospital wing and he was forced to leave it. It wouldn’t do for his only friends to see how freaky he really was. Aunt Petunia had been horrified when she had caught him experimenting with a small cut he had accidently given himself one time in the garden. He had been pulling and pushing the skin together, watching how the small droplets of blood reacted and Aunt Petunia had declared him even more freaky than she had thought before sending him into his cupboard and out of her sight.

Harry had merely shrugged to himself as he lay on the tiny pallet that served as his bed. He had always been called a freak and there was nothing else to occupy his mind with. Perhaps if Aunt Petunia let him go to the local library and read the books there, he wouldn’t have to play around with his own body and the various injuries he accumulated.

It was interesting how a small cut and a large one reacted. Bruises were cool too. There wasn’t any blood on the surface leaking out but there was some under the skin, pooling together in one spot and discolouring the skin. His Uncle had given him plenty of times to examine the effects of bruises. Harry didn’t mind too much though. Sure, they hurt, but they were interesting and staved off the boredom.

When Ron and Hermione were gone and the Healer had given him a disgusting potion to drink before going to bed, Harry slowly and carefully undid the bandage to see what lay beneath it. There was only a few thin lines left and Harry’s eyebrows rose. He knew from his various calculations that it should take far longer than an afternoon for such wounds to heal. Magic, he thought, was quite wonderful. He only wished he had been able to see it in action.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

A seventeen-year-old Harry Potter sat on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, legs dangling in the open air and staring down at the ground where Dumbledore had lain a year before. He wondered if Dumbledore was happy now and free. Or if he was off adventuring somewhere. He had said once that death was the next great adventure and Harry had to agree. There was nothing to be afraid of in death, it was merely a fact of life. 

He remembered Voldemort. Tom Riddle had been so afraid of death that he had caused himself to go insane with the need to live forever. He had split apart his own soul into smaller and smaller pieces that he then scattered around. Harry snorted in disgust. Why anyone would be so afraid of death he didn’t know. Death had been a reality for him ever since he was three years old. He knew that it would come, he was not afraid.

And it had come. But he had left it behind and some part of him wished he hadn't. He remembered the white Kings Cross Station with the train that would surely come in soon and take him onwards. But as he had looked back on the world he had left, Harry knew that he couldn’t leave them all behind.

He knew that there were people there who hadn’t accepted death as he had, he knew that they would prefer to live and truthfully, Harry couldn't understand them but he could perhaps see where they were coming from. After all, they had people waiting for them to come home. Harry had no one. Oh, he knew Ron and Hermione would have been sad if he had continued onwards but other than that, he wasn’t all that important. He was just Harry, and that’s all he wanted to be.

He sighed, letting the breath flow in and out of his somehow still alive body. For so many years he had been staring at the face of death and he knew it intimately. Now it was gone and Harry found he didn’t know what to do with that. What was there for him to do now that there was no death there to spur him on? 

The Boy-Who-Lived didn’t know how to live. He knew how to follow orders. He knew how to fight to save others. He knew how to keep his head down and let others do the talking. He also knew that the world would be expecting him to stand up and lead them forward into a golden age of peace and prosperity. Harry couldn’t stand that idea. He had no desire to lead. He had no real desire to do anything.

His whole life he had merely been doing as he was told. A caw from his left drew his attention and Harry turned to see a crow perching next to him on the bench of the Astronomy Tower’s stone parapets. 

“It’s all right for you,” he said to the bird. “You don’t have anyone staring at you and waiting for your next move.”

The crow cawed again. It seemed to be staring at him, urging him on to do something for himself. Harry shrugged slightly, he didn’t have the faintest clue what to do, that was why he had decided to sit at the top of the Astronomy Tower in the first place. It was somewhere he was unlikely to be disturbed. The crow almost seemed to huff in irritation before spreading its wings and flying off the stone, joining the murder that was currently wheeling through the sky. 

Harry watched them and wished he could join. He had always felt happy when he was in the sky. Up in the air, his freaky thoughts of blood and injuries and the human body vanished as it was all replaced by the rush of wind and the joy at defying gravity. He sat up suddenly, having to catch himself on the wall as his movement almost caused him to topple off.

He  _ could _ join them! Maybe. If he learned how to be an Animagus and he had the form of a bird, he could fly in the air without the aid of a broomstick. He could fly anonymously without any fear that anyone would look to him for direction. He could just fly and live the life of a bird. Hadn’t he just been thinking that there was nothing here for him to come back to? Why couldn’t he learn to be an Animagus and just never change back?

Filled with an energy that he had been lacking since he had died, Harry rushed down to the deserted library and collected every book he could find on Animagi. He pushed them all into the small beaded handbag that Hermione had created and rushed out again, eager to start.

He stopped in the middle of a random hallway though, where could he go? He didn’t want to bothered and he couldn’t stay up in the Astronomy Tower all the time. He thought briefly of the Shrieking Shack but dismissed the idea almost immediately. There was the Chamber of Secrets but Ron could get inside and Harry didn’t want to see anyone at the moment. His gaze drifted out of a nearby window and saw the distant village of Hogsmeade.

A sad smile appeared on his face as he thought of all the happy memories he had found there. Sirius had been there, in a cave, living off scraps during Harry’s fourth year and the Triwizard Tournament. The  _ cave _ ! Of course! He doubted anyone would be looking for him in Hogsmeade and he could put wards up just as he had so many times before while he was hunting for Horcruxes.

He hurried to the statue that held the secret passage to Honeydukes and slipped down it. He had everything he needed on him, there was no reason to go to Gryffindor Tower and collect things. Everything was in the beaded bag that Hermione had pressed into his hand a few days ago, Harry wondered briefly if she had known he would want to vanish from the wizarding world. In the end it didn’t matter if she knew or not, she had still given him a way to do it easily and with little fuss.

Once he had reached the cave and placed all the various wards he knew, Harry settled down with a cup of tea in Mr Weasley’s tent and started reading. It would take time, he knew, but he had plenty of time to spare now. While the wizarding world frantically searched for the missing saviour, Harry would sit in Sirius’ cave and learn the art of being an Animagus.

Two months later, the wards were taken down and a beaded bag was refilled. A northern cardinal grasped the small bag with their talons, grateful for the feather-light charm placed on it. The cardinal then launched itself into the sky and flew towards the castle that was still being repaired from the battle. The sun highlighted the red feathers as the bird typically only seen in America soared across the sky of Scotland. With a cry, it swooped down to the girl standing by the edge of the lake and perched on her shoulder.

She startled but upon seeing the familiar beaded bag that was almost bigger than the bird that carried it, smiled. “Hey Harry.” Harry trilled and held out the leg that grasped the small bag. Hermione gently accepted it. “Will we ever see you again?”

That was a question Harry couldn’t answer so he merely butted Hermione’s cheek with his head and took off into the sky once more. Hermione watched as he flew over the Forbidden Forest and away from the human life that had taken so much from him. She hoped he would be happy. A bird’s life was simple and she knew that was what her friend needed. One day, she might see him again and she would welcome him with open arms. Until then, she would remain content in the knowledge that she had helped her friend escape the world that demanded so much from him.

When the speck of red had finally vanished from sight, Hermione sighed and turned back to the castle of Hogwarts. The walls were almost completely rebuilt and the grounds had been landscaped so that the blast holes were filled in. She smiled and waved when she saw Ron walking towards her.

Ron grinned and nodded towards the beaded bag she held, “Seen Harry then? He okay?”

“He’s just fine, we probably won’t see him for awhile though.”

“We expected that. As long as he’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

Ron pulled Hermione into a one-armed hug and they stood together looking at the castle they had been steadily helping to rebuild. The sun was setting behind it and the walls looked to be bathed in red. There was a new life waiting for them in the castle, one without Voldemort and life-threatening adventures. It was going to be grand.


	64. Background and Foreground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition  
> Prompt: Write about Ron's relationship with another student at Hogwarts (not Harry, Hermione or his siblings).

Ronald Weasley was the youngest boy in a family of seven children. All his life, he had been in the shadow of his brother's accomplishments and could never find something that could only belong to him. Bill had his talent for breaking spells, Charlie had his creatures, Percy had his general talent of school work while Fred and George had their pranks. Ginny didn't really need to do anything to stand out. She was the only female child so she already stood out.

That left Ron. He wasn't particularly talented at anything except perhaps chess. He couldn't stand out by playing on the Quidditch team at Hogwarts as his brothers had already done that. If he got good grades at school, he was just like Percy, and if he decided to play a prank he was taking after the twins. Nothing he did could be said to be just him with no influence from his brothers.

He didn't think anyone else felt like he did, thought it was just something that was him and only him. That was until Hermione bullied Harry into forming the D.A. and inevitably dragged Ron along for the ride. It was fun, going to the D.A. meetings. It was also scary. The reason they were doing it in the first place was so that they stood a fighting chance against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. But it let him interact with people who he normally didn't.

With the classes structured as they were, the Gryffindors generally only interacted with the Slytherins they shared classes with. Of course, all of those interactions were antagonistic because Gryffindors and Slytherins never got along, but the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were alright.

Ron had always thought the Ravenclaws only cared about the books they could read but he learned that they would always have a firmer grasp on the theory of a spell due to how much they studied it beforehand. He realized that just because they could understand the theory, that didn't mean they understood the practical application. Ron spent the time Harry was going over spells he knew already, walking among the Ravenclaws and helping them transfer theoretical knowledge into practical.

The Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, were great for a laugh. They would quite happily invite you to their friend group and explain the joke that had them giggling while practicing whatever spell it was Harry decided to teach them that day. This was where Ron got to know Susan Bones. He knew her name, of course. It was hard not to when her aunt was the head of the Department of Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic. His father often talked about how great Amelia Bones was and what a good job she was doing.

Susan and her friends accepted Ron into their group of friends when they were all practicing together. They gathered together a lot of the time and often spent a few minutes after the D.A. meeting was over and everyone was leaving in ones and twos to avoid suspicion simply chatting about anything and everything. Soon enough, Ron found himself an honourary Hufflepuff and enjoyed the time after the D.A. more than the actual D.A. meetings.

Those times were how he learned that Susan Bones was feeling the same way he did. She had a great aunt, one that almost everyone knew. One that most people would be expecting her to follow and exceed. It was a heavy burden and Ron could understand the pressure Susan was under. He had brothers that he had to stand out from, while she had to show the world that she was different from her aunt.

They started meeting at times other than when the D.A. met. They would always be discreet, as they never knew when a Slytherin would appear and declare that a Gryffindor and Hufflepuff could never be friends under normal circumstances and had obviously met in a secret and forbidden group that was not approved by Professor Umbridge. This accusation was true. They had met via a forbidden group, but that didn't mean they wanted to be accused of such a thing and draw Umbridge's attention on them and thus their movements which would draw Umbridge to the D.A. meetings they went to.

The times they met up with just the two of them was when they talked about the burden they both felt weighing them down. Ron listened as Susan talked about how much she hated going to the functions at the Ministry with her aunt because all of the people there would look at her and say "You're the spitting image of your aunt, I bet you'll be just like her."

When people said that to Susan, it made her feel as though she had no choice but to follow her aunt's footsteps and go into the Department of Law Enforcement. Never mind that she just wanted to live a relatively simple life and would be quite content being a herbologist or potions master in the background. She would never be allowed to be in the background.

Ron wanted to be in the foreground. He had been in the background all his life as his brothers completed one achievement after another and left nothing for only him to achieve. He couldn't even be the only one to follow his father into the Ministry as Percy had done that first. He felt like he was being squashed down by the things he hadn't done but his brothers had.

The two of them ended up making a pact. If they both survived the war against You-Know-Who, they would trade places. Susan would fade into anonymity while Ron would move forward into the spotlight. They'd help each other escape the expectations their family had put upon them and live their lives as they wished. Ron would probably become an Auror and Susan would get her aunt to help him with that. Susan would open a little shop somewhere and Ron would help keep the press away from trying to discover why the niece of such a prominent figure in the Ministry of Magic was working in a hole in the wall somewhere.

It was a good plan, they thought. Both of them quite content with the future they now had in front of them. It was a good thing Hermione had created the D.A. and brought them together, otherwise who knew what would have been waiting for them. Their friendship was mutually beneficial and they were grateful for that.


	65. An Addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for The Houses Competition and MC4A  
> Prompts: [Weather] Torrential Downpour, Wind  
> Beta: Aya Diefair

The rain pounded on the roof, deafening any sound that might have been made in the room below. Wind howled against the windows, shaking the glass as it desperately tried to get in. A woman stood outside, letting the wind tear at her clothing and the rain soak her through. She was staring upwards at the small figure darting about the darkened sky on a slim piece of enchanted wood. Somewhere, she knew, there was a small speck of gold flitting across the sky and the figure was searching for it.

It should have been an impossible task. The visibility was terrible, the rain creating wall-like sheets that were opaque and the wind buffeted the broom-riding figure forcing him to divide his attention between searching for the small golden ball and staying both on course and on the broom. The rider was determined to show himself that it  _was_  possible. So far, the small Snitch had been caught two times and every time, the man had released it before taking off into the sky again.

Inside the small house, another man watched the two people outside. He had cast the necessary protection charms on various plants before the downpour had really kicked in and was now enjoying a warm cup of tea as he kept an eye on Harry and Luna. Standing next to Luna was the thestral they had taken in when his herd had exiled him. Mortimer was ready and waiting should Harry lose control of the broom. He was also rather intent on the now sodden piece of raw meat Luna had given him moments before.

Neville grinned as Harry once more swooped down, grasping the golden ball to show it to Luna. Mortimer raised his head to inspect the ball but quickly decided the meat was more interesting. Luna took the self-inking quill from behind her ear and made a note on the water resistant paper she held. Harry let the Snitch go once more and zoomed after it. The hovering  _tempus_  spell continued counting, marking how long it took Harry to find and catch the Snitch.

A movement from outside the window that was neither Harry or the Snitch caught his eye and he sighed as he recognised the figure of an owl. The poor thing was being thrown every which way and he knew that he would not let the owl leave until it had recovered. Opening the window (and using a sticking charm to make sure it stayed open), he shouted, " _Accio_!" and quickly drew the owl in out of the storm.

It was clear that the owl was from the Ministry, the letter bearing the seal stated that loudly. Neville ignored the letter and focused on getting the owl dry and warm, sorting out the dishevelled feathers and providing water and food. Silently he cursed the person who had decided it was wise to send out an owl in this weather, it wasn't as though there weren't any other types of communication. A floo call would have been just as easy and they had said they would accept floo calls when they had visited the Ministry a week ago.

Once the owl was settled, he cast a Patronus and sent it out to fetch Luna and Harry. They all needed to know what the Ministry had decided. The worry was what had taken the other two outside in the first place. They had needed the distraction of flying and timing Snitch catches as they waited for news.

Soon enough, the door was slamming open and two anxious sodding wet people rushed in to halt in front of Neville with anxious eyes—Mortimer following behind curiously. Harry gripped Luna's hand tightly and Neville took a deep breath before slitting the letter open.

" _Dear Mister Potter,"_ he read aloud, " _we are pleased to inform you that we have decided to allow your adoption of the werewolf child, Edward Remus Lupin. Please visit the Ministry of Magic no later than three days from now to pick up the child and take it home with you. Sincerely, Herin Spark, Child Welfare Office."_

There was silence after Neville had finished reading, grins being traded between them. The three of them were ecstatic that they had custody of Teddy and that they would be able to look after him. It had been a struggle with the Ministry after the death of Andromeda, they had seemed reluctant even though Harry was Teddy's godfather.

"We should go now," Luna said and the others agreed.

They didn't care about the horrid weather outside, they would be going to collect Teddy now and bring him home. There was no way that they would allow the boy to be away from his family any longer than they were forced to. It was as one that they walked to the fireplace and flooed into the Ministry of Magic.

They headed straight to the Child Welfare Office and demanded to see Herin Spark. They would be taking Teddy,  _now_. Herin Spark seemed surprised to see them. "Are you sure you don't want some more time to yourselves without the boy?" he asked them.

Harry shuddered slightly at the way Spark said  _boy_. It reminded him far too much of the times his Uncle Vernon had called him that. Neville and Luna tightened their grip on Harry's hand.

"We're sure, Mister Spark," Neville said firmly. "Please bring Teddy to us so that we can take him home."

Spark sighed but sent out a memo, presumably asking for whoever was looking after Teddy to bring him to his office. While they waited, Herin directed Harry's hand with a quill to places he should sign on a bit of parchment for official custody. They waited in a tense silence, Harry not looking at Spark as he tried to control his rising emotions and memories.

In a few minutes, they heard footsteps and a knock sounded at the closed door. Spark invited the person in and Teddy appeared, a lady holding his hand. Teddy immediately broke out of her grasp and ran at Harry. The two Ministry workers reached for their wands but the family of four were focused on each other and didn't see the instinctive movement at a known werewolf's child breaking free of their control.

Harry scooped Teddy up in his arms and held him tightly, Luna and Neville curling around the duo in a group hug. "I knew you'd come, Harry."

"Of course I did, little wolf. I will always come for you."

A pointed clearing of the throat brought Harry's attention back to Spark and the lady who had brought Teddy to them. "I must ask this one last time, Mister Potter; are you absolutely sure you want to have custody of the mongrel?"

As one, the eyes of Neville, Luna and Harry flashed in anger. Teddy looked up at Harry and asked, "What's mongrel mean, Harry?"

"Nothing you should ever apply to yourself," Luna replied.

Harry glared at Spark, fury emanating from him even as his hold on Teddy remained gentle and secure. "I am  _quite_  sure that I want my  _godson_  to live with me and my partners."

Unable to stay in the vicinity of the clearly bigoted Ministry workers, Harry carried Teddy out of the small office and towards the floos, Neville and Luna following. They wanted to get Teddy home and away from the Ministry as quickly as possible.

Mortimer—who had a room within the house for when he felt like joining the humans—rose his head in interest as he noticed the new addition, butting the child's head with his own when Teddy was directed and introduced to the invisible creature. Teddy giggled and immediately wanted to be placed on the back of Mortimer when he learned that he was a thestral, overjoyed by the thought of being high in the air with no visible support.

Even as the weather outside continued to rail against the house, the small family played and laughed as they assimilated to the change from four to five. The worry from the past few days was over now they had Teddy in their home and arms. No one had the power to take him away and he would grow up loved as he should be. He would know love and his parents. He would know the creatures of the world, the plants in the ground, and the feel of wind in his hair. Most importantly, he would be happy.


End file.
